Flat Liner!
by jasmine105
Summary: One of Horatio's team is down, and the tragedy sends the lieutenant on a journey toward self-discovery.
1. Chapter 1

FLAT LINER!

Chapter 1 - Blood Brothers

"We have a flat liner!"

Dr. Alexx Woods didn't waste precious seconds looking at the young paramedic who called out the dire warning. Instead, she read the prompts on the monitor of the portable defibrillator. Under her breath, she muttered, "Breathe, damn you! Breathe!"

From the sidelines, Lieutenant Horatio Caine, his face strained and pale, watched as his favorite Medical Examiner fought to keep death at bay. Her cool efficiency and intense concentration as she ministered to her patient seemed to defy death, to challenge it: _No! You shall not have him!_

In his distress, Horatio fiddled with the sunglasses in his hands, almost bending the delicate frames out of shape. His stricken gaze took in the lifeless limbs, laying starkly on the patchy lawn surrounding the old Munroe house. It was a desolate place, surrounded by a small yard containing more clumps of dirt than grass. And now this...

The M.E.'s body obstructed Horatio's view of the face and torso that owned the unresponsive limbs. Not that it mattered. He knew who lay beneath Alexx's expert hands ~ he didn't need to view the face.

_Eric_, he thought, _Eric..._

Trying to contain his fears, he kept quiet, unwilling to distract Alexx as she worked with single-mindedness. He looked at the lost figure of Calleigh Duquesne and bit down hard on his bottom lip. _Don't blame yourself, Calleigh_, he silently commanded.

The blond knelt next to the prone figure. Once crisp and pristine, her white jacket now bore stains of blood and dirt. It lay crumbled beneath the head of the inert figure.

Blood and dirt. _His _blood. His _brother's_ blood.

Blood brothers.

No ~ closer than blood. Brothers bound by heart. By _choice_.

_Not you, Eric!_

Her eyes dazed, Calleigh looked up and stared unseeingly in Horatio's direction. Smudges of grime and tears had vanquished her usual sunny features. _No sunshine on her face now, _thought the lieutenant grimly,_ no sunshine anywhere... not if..._

He quashed the thought. It was too terrible.

"Paddles ~ now!" demanded Alexx, her voice strong and commanding. "CLEAR!"

They watched silently as the body jerked upward, only to collapse again upon itself.

Nothing.

"Oh, dear God," choked Calleigh.

Horatio ran a trembling hand through his hair. _Eric! _he pleaded._ Don't do this to me. Don't leave... I can't go through this again. Not you, brother ~ not you. _His eyes filmed with moisture; for a moment, he was unable to see.

"Damn," swore Frank Tripp softly, coming to stand next to Horatio. "How in hell did this happen?"

Unable to master himself, Horatio compressed his lips into a tight, thin line and blinked several times in rapid succession. His throat tight with unshed tears, he was unable to speak. Helpless, he simply shook his head. He needed to take himself in hand, but he couldn't.

It didn't matter. When he finally hazarded a sideways glance at the Texan, he saw that Frank wasn't looking at him. Perhaps his friend understood what a blow this was to him, how he couldn't begin to find the words for what had occurred. _Who could find the words for something like this?_ he wondered.

Frank moved slightly toward Calleigh and directed his solemn gaze at her. "What happened?" he asked again, his voice quiet and troubled.

Stricken, she whispered brokenly, "I'm not sure, Frank... one minute, everything was fine. Eric and I had searched the perimeter of the house, secured it. We thought it was clear. We then went inside... through the front door. It was so dim ~ all the curtains were closed against the sunlight."

Looking at the prostrate figure, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a thin trail of dusty moisture down one cheek. "Eric went in first, then I followed... backing him up... standard operating procedure." Her eyes haunted, she said again, "It was standard operating procedure! ...then Horatio and Natalia came in through the back of the house...

"Suddenly... I heard the loud crack of rapid gunfire. It happened so fast... it was... confusing... I heard him cry out and then... then he collapsed, Frank. He... he just went down."

Her face contorted with pain as she repeated, "It should have been okay... we did everything by the book... standard operating procedure."

Listening, Horatio's throat moved convulsively. He knew what Calleigh was going through ~ he was going through it as well. _Are we going to lose Eric? Now? After all we've been through?_

Frank exhaled heavily, and watched as Alexx worked diligently to revive the technically dead man. The Texan moved closer to Calleigh and, mimicking Horatio's habitual pose, knelt down on one knee.

"The perp?" he asked.

Her chin quivered briefly. "He got away... Natalia and... they're pursuing him... oh, Frank! What will we do?"

"This is hard, Cal," he said simply.

Horatio glanced down at the sunglasses he still held. A frown appeared on his face, and he gazed at them with faint surprise. He had mangled the glasses, twisting the frames so that they were beyond repair. _Like his brother? Was he also beyond repair?_

The thought enraged Horatio, filling him with a sudden white heat, and he experienced a keen desire to maul more than the useless sunglasses still in his hands. He wanted to cry out, to rail against the injustice of it. He wished he could hit something... someone. Anyone!

_It had been a routine operation! No one should have gotten hurt!_

Certainly not Eric...

He heard the soothing voice next to him: "It will be okay. He's tough. He's cheated death before; he can do it again. It'll be okay."

Grateful to hear that vote of confidence, Horatio nodded and then turned to look at Ryan Wolfe. In his grief, he hadn't heard the young man approach. He saw mirrored in the dark-haired man's expression his own pain and desperate need for reassurance. He reached out his hand, intent on gripping Ryan's shoulder in shared support, but the younger man refused to meet his eyes. Instead, Ryan stared at the weedy clumps of grass, his features twisted with confusion. He looked as bewildered as Horatio felt, and Horatio's heart clenched as he listened to Ryan repetitive, wooden mantra: "He'll be okay... he'll be okay. He's tough... "

Alexx Woods' strong, deliberate voice interrupted Horatio's thoughts and Ryan's hypnotic chant. "C'mon, sugar… I'm not giving up on you. Okay, guys, again! Ready? CLEAR!"

Another jolt of electricity caused the body to seize, and then – just as abruptly – it went slack.

Alexx pursed her lips and raised troubled eyes to the paramedic, whose expression was grim as they watched the heart line on the small monitor remain flat.

"You ready to call it?" he asked her quietly.

Calleigh gasped. "No! No, Alexx - not yet! You can't!"

"Don't be silly," said Alexx swiftly, briefly looking her way, "you know I'm gonna give this boy every opportunity to come back to us. I've been through too much with him. We aren't finished here yet." The words were decisive, but Horatio saw the sorrow lurking in the depths of Alexx's expressive eyes.

Steeling himself for what was almost certain to come, a myriad of images bloomed painfully in his brain: the first time he'd met Eric, convinced him to go back to school, get that background that would enable Horatio to make him part of his team. He remembered Eric's gift to him of his now signature sunglasses and the enjoyment the young Cuban had taken in Horatio's delight with them. How many times had Eric had his back? A sudden and searing image rose up of his wedding day, and Eric accompanying them down the lakeside walkway as he and Mari met with the official who was to administer their marriage vows.

And then there was Brazil.

Never to be forgotten Brazil.

So many memories. A lifetime of memories.

His blood brother. Brother of his heart.

For Horatio, there had been too many losses over the years. He wondered if he could sustain another. This one, he believed, might be the one to do him in. He wanted to move closer, to grip Eric's cold hand in his and pour his own life force into him. Hadn't they been down this road once before?

But this time... this time was different. There was nothing he could do. His own emotions paralyzed him; he was unable to move. He could only stand there, staring at the patches of dirt and stringy weeds springing up from the unforgiving ground. _Live, Eric, live!_ He offered up the silent plea to any gods who might be listening.

He heard the soft thudding of frantic footsteps as they pounded against grass, weeds and dirt. Someone ran up behind him, quickly approaching the small gathering. Heavy, labored panting vied with words painfully gasped out.

"I couldn't catch him! I tried – don't know where he got to." A pause as the speaker struggled to catch his breath.

"God damn him! We'll get him, I swear we will!" The flow of words stopped as the speaker looked toward Alexx and the fallen colleague. "I got back here as quick as I could… Cal? Alexx? Is he okay?"

"Does he _look_ okay?" Calleigh asked angrily, her eyes bleak and forlorn.

Abashed, still in shock, Eric Delko's questions died on his lips when confronted with Calleigh's hostility.

_Eric? _

Confused, Horatio looked from the body lying on the ground to the tall, handsome man who faced Calleigh. _Eric? _

_**ERIC!**_

He was unharmed! Eric was unharmed!

Horatio felt his now full heart leap joyfully within him! _Thank you, thank you, thank you!_ he whispered to whoever might be responsible for the miracle. Elated, he moved toward his friend, wanting to embrace him in his relief.

But, surprisingly, he found himself still unable to move. His legs, unlike his jubilant heart, were heavy and unresponsive to his command. He remained rooted to the spot in which he'd been standing. He watched Eric closely, wanting to reassure himself that his brother was indeed okay.

It was a miracle!

_Wasn't it?_

His feeling of exultation suddenly died.

_Something was not right._ Why did Eric's face look as though it were about to crumble? Why was Calleigh still so upset?

Bullets… he remembered the bullets. They had whizzed by him… but one had ricocheted. It had hit Eric… hadn't it? Isn't that how Horatio had ended up here? Standing guard as his fallen brother fought for his life. Isn't that what happened?

He tried to force a question from his lips. "Eric? Eric, what happened?"

Eric didn't look his way.

"Brother?" he tried again.

Nothing.

A coil of icy dread started to unfurl deep within Horatio's bowels and undulate slowly throughout the rest of him. _Why didn't Eric respond?_

"Calleigh?" he croaked. But Calleigh's attention was again directed toward the man in front of Alexx.

Beginning to understand, Horatio looked again toward the body. For a moment, his mind refused to admit the possibility of what he was seeing, and he stood quietly, no longer trying to gain the attention of his colleagues. Instead, he watched as Alexx bent over the man before her, focused intently on the settings on the defibrillator.

_Who is she tending?_ _If not Eric, then who?_

Abruptly freed from unseen chains, Horatio felt himself able to move again, and he slowly walked past the stunned Delko and approached Frank and Calleigh. He leaned over Alexx's shoulder as she kept up a steady stream of gentle remonstrance toward the unresponsive body.

And then he knew.

With jarring impact, the memory of what had occurred inside that house hit him. Flashing, horrific images flew at him, assaulting him at hyper speed: the bullet hitting the iron stair railing, ricocheting off of it and entering his temple, the sound of Calleigh's screams as Eric pulled her to safety, and Natalia checking his vitals and then, with a look of sad acceptance, running out of the house, in the direction from which the gunfire had erupted. And Eric ~ Eric kneeling next to him, leaning over, lifting his head, begging him to hold on as Horatio's heart seized in attack at the onslaught of the bullet's entry into his temple... Eric leaving... going after Natalia in pursuit of the shooter... Calleigh frantically calling into a radio, 'Officer down! Officer down! Send help NOW.'

It was him. He had taken the bullet, not Eric.

"Dr. Woods," said the young paramedic to Alexx, his tone kind, "it's time to call it. You've done everything you can… it's time to let him go."

Alexx understood the EMT was doing his job, trying to assist, remaining objective. He was trying to be gentle. But he hadn't known Horatio. He couldn't grasp the pain in her heart or know the harsh reality facing her. She looked at her lieutenant, his once bright hair matted with dirt and blood, the brilliant blue eyes closed, the sensitive mouth slack and slowly turning blue. Should she release him? Was it time to call it?

Bereft now of any emotion, Horatio watched her. He felt detached from what was occurring, and past caring. In some way, he was moving away from them. He was… not quite Horatio. Not now.

Her eyes wet, Alexx looked at her watch. It was time to let that good man go. She was about to note the time for the official record when Frank suddenly reached out and lightly grasped her wrist. "Not yet," he said, his voice low. "Try again. Try again, Alexx."

She looked into his eyes and nodded. _One more time_. They owed him this.

She placed the paddles on his chest again, checked the settings. About to press the button, she called out, 'STAND CLEAR.'

The body spasmed and thrust upward.

A strong, unearthly gust of wind forced Horatio backward. The furious, swirling movement quickly gained velocity, and Horatio experienced the sensation of being wrenched away from all that was familiar. He watched as the small group of friends who were bent over the dying body seemed to move away from him. In reality, it was he who was moving away and at the speed of light...

His last coherent thought was _Good-bye! Good-bye, my friends!_

And then all thought ceased, and he heard nothing but the sound of the wind.

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

Flat Liner!

Chapter 2 - Cogito, Ergo Sum

The roar of the wind had slowly subsided.

So, too, had the rushing movement, that reeling sensation of being hurtled backward in time and space. All was still... and void, lacking form or substance.

There was no light. Just vast, impersonal nothingness.

A part of him was one with the nothingness, and was content to merge with it. He was leaving behind his individuality, and it did not distress him. He now lacked substance. Organization. He was becoming something else, something refined, cleansed of all that had once defined him. The essence of self was dispersing into minute electrical impulses that would ultimately pass into the nothingness, and who he had been would be extinct for all time.

It was disconcerting.

_Disconcerting?_

_What did it mean to be disconcerted?_ The thought perplexed him.

Then, too, the concept of thought seemed to baffle him momentarily.

Surprised, he realized he was _sensible_ of conscious thought.

And then, this: _I think; therefore I am..._ but _was_ he?

He experienced amusement. It was a question for philosophers, not a cop who worked for the city.

_Cop?_

Slowly, an inchoate form of self-realization began to surface. He yet retained a measure of self-hood. He had a _history_. He had a uniqueness that set him apart from the nothingness. There was enough still left of who he had been - just enough - to differentiate his 'being' from the impersonal vacuum that surrounded him.

No, he was not one with it. Not _yet_. Not entirely.

It was _seductive_. The idea of being assimilated by something bigger than him, something dispassionate and coolly indifferent, had its appeal. It was a fiercely beguiling thought that he could leave behind all the cares and passions that made him singularly who he was. _Never to feel again... to leave behind the highs and the lows of existence... how oddly magnetic it was..._

Still, something held him back, and that something refused to allow him to submerge his personality into the beckoning detachment. Something pulled at him, kept him from moving on. It prevented him from leaving behind forever who he had been in another existence. _Why? What wouldn't let him go?_

Then with sudden awareness, he knew.

_It was the voices._

Voices that echoed persistently, intruding upon his conscious thought and his desire to move forward. Voices, light years away, muffled and indistinct. They distracted him with their urgent importuning. He sensed their alarm. Should he be concerned? He didn't think so...

Lassitude made his thoughts heavy and sluggish and in its way, the lethargy fought to turn his attention from the distracting voices and toward the collective nothingness. It would be so easy to submit... to immerse all that he had been in the annihilation of self, embracing gratefully - eagerly - the peace it offered.

But... _those voices_. He could not understand what they were saying, but their urgent appeal lured him away from a sea of nothingness. They held him hostage in spite of his desire for release.

What did they mean to him? What _had_ they meant to him? _Something... once._

He paused in his journey toward the detached void and considered the situation. How long he considered, he did not know. Time no longer had meaning for him. Yet something in those voices did.

The voices won. He would not move on, not just yet. He stayed where he was.

He puzzled over that. _Where was he? More important, who was he?_ Shadows, fleeting and obscure, danced amongst the synapses of his conscious thought.

He slowly became aware of a soft, persistent thudding. It began to vie for his attention, and his conscious thought began to analyze it. The sound reverberated along the strings of his thoughts, confounding him. It was vaguely familiar. Like the voices, it had meaning... but he couldn't make the connection. It forced his mind back in time... a rhythm sure and true, that didn't miss a beat.

A _heartbeat_? Was that what he was sensing?

He brought all his will to bear in trying to make out the meaning behind the soft, persistent pounding. In doing so, he found himself drawn even farther from the inviting nothingness.

He was now fully distinct from it. With the strengthening of his thoughts, his being seemed to organize itself into something more recognizable. _Cogito, ergo sum._ Bits and pieces of who he was began to consolidate, to take shape and form. He had substance. He _was_.

It was then that his name came to him.

Caine. He was Horatio Caine.

* * *

An indeterminate amount of time passed. He forgot about the nothingness. His progression halted; it was as if it had never been.

Things were surer now. He had a sense of himself. With it came the perception of solidity, of being present. He was again complete. He felt he had been somewhere else... had been _something_ else. He could not reason it out. The memory was leaving him. He bit his lower lip, trying with difficulty to organize his thoughts.

Like a newborn baby, Horatio opened his eyes and gazed in wonder at the sights around him. Shifting mists of sepia-toned images assaulted his eyes, leaving him feeling dazed and disoriented. A feeling of intense nausea came over him as his eyes tried to make sense of careening visions of multiple landscapes colliding into one another. Trying to maintain his equilibrium, Horatio grasped tightly the edge of the bench on which he sat; it was a lifeboat in an ocean of uncertainty.

Suddenly, a realization hit him: _the bench on which he was sitting..._

Yes. It was most definitely a bench beneath him. Something solid. Substantial. It was real.

He took a deep breath, feeling less disoriented at the evidence of the bench's materiality. Slowly the vertiginous images whirling about him began to sort themselves into a settled arrangement, and the landscape surrounding him resolved into something familiar.

Very familiar.

Horatio remained seated, studying his surroundings. His hands still held tight to the bench. He began to ease his grip slightly.

The bench he sat on was old, its green paint cracked and peeling. He could feel its textured crackle beneath his hands. Cautiously, he lifted a piece of the flaking paint up to his eyes and studied it. It was real enough. The recollection came to him that he had sat on this particular bench many times. _When? Where?_

The tones of sepia had receded when the images stabilized. Color, vivid and bright, soaked the landscape around him. He understood now that he was sitting in a park. Trees, dressed in the full plumage of summer, provided a lacy canopy through which dappled sunlight peeked. Graceful branches overhead swayed languidly in the warm breeze of a summer afternoon. As if patiently awaiting his notice, a symphony of sound started up in the form of buzzing bees and chirruping birds. At the same time, he noted a feeling of warmth on his face and hands, the warmth brought on by a late afternoon sun. A memory started to surface: many summers, long ago, he'd played in a park like this.

He puzzled for a moment. A park like this... or _this_ park? In the distance, a bird began singing a song familiar to Horatio, and he glanced in the direction of the sound. He knew instinctively which tree to look at, and he saw the feathered creature perched just where he thought he'd find it. A bluebird. He knew, before seeing it, that it would be a bluebird – and this particular bluebird. He'd recognized its singing. The disturbing sensation of having been in this place before increased.

Horatio frowned. He still heard the far-off voices; again, he wondered what the muted voices were saying to him. That they were speaking to _him_, he had no doubt. The words, however, remained unintelligible. Even so, the voices disquieted him; he felt the anxiety underpinning the muffled tones. It was unnerving. _What did they want from him?_

He forced the voices from the forefront of his thoughts. Instead, he focused on the persistent pounding that continued to call out to him. The steady sound of it was strangely familiar. First, he had imagined its rhythm to be the sound of heartbeats. But no, it was the sound of something slapping hard against an unyielding surface. He knew that sound. He was certain it was a sound from his past... but he couldn't place it. For the moment, its significance remained out of reach.

Looking around the park, he wondered how he had gotten there. Something had happened: _something bad, unexpected_. There was a missing length of time in his thoughts. He had been somewhere else before he'd appeared in this park setting, somewhere vague and cold. Dark.

He _should_ remember, but he could not.

He felt alone. Where were the people? Where were his people?

_His people._ He had people. People he was responsible for... _where were they?_

As if in retort to his question, the voices swelled in sudden intensity, and Horatio quickly raised his hands to his chest, trying to rub away the sudden ache he felt. It... _hurt_. Badly. The urgent crescendo of the voices added to the pain, and a strong desire to rip something away from his chest overcame him. He looked down and saw nothing there. Why did it feel as though there was? He felt the fabric of his shirt beneath his urgent fingertips… there was nothing underneath the shirt except him… and yet… he felt as if something foreign rested over his heart.

Almost as soon as the volume of the voices increased, the noise of the syncopated pounding began to compete with it. The two sounds waged a battle for his attention. The pounding won, and dulled the hold of the voices. Horatio's pain began to abate. He was able to think again, and he sat up straighter, dropping his hands to his sides. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

After several moments passed, he looked down at a crushed stone pathway that meandered past his bench into a nearby thicket of trees. Something about the pathway pulled at old memories. And then, he knew. He knew with sureness what he would find behind the cluster of trees if he were to follow the pathway. He smiled slightly. The rhythmic percussive sound grew louder. It was not unpleasant. It was coming from behind the trees. He knew it now for what it was. It was a sound from his youth.

Gingerly, he stretched his legs out before him. He ran his hands over his thighs, confirming their solid muscularity. Thoughtful, he tilted his head slightly as he looked at the pants he wore. They bore stains of dirt and something else. Rusty spatters of dried blood. _Had he been in a fight? Why couldn't he remember?_

Dismissing his questions for the present, he decided to test his legs. Tentatively he rose from the bench, wondering if his leg muscles would acquiesce to his command. They did. He put one foot out in front of the other, and took a cautious step. His legs held him. _Good._

For a few moments, he stood quietly, thinking about what might await him beyond the grouping of trees. He thought he knew. It occurred to him he might be dreaming. Things were so odd, so familiar and yet not quite. Something was off. Still, he knew he had to move forward. A strong, irresistible need to see what lay beyond the trees urged him on in spite of his hesitation.

Finally, he decided. He started to walk down the stone pathway; he felt certain he knew what lay beyond, and prepared himself to meet it.

Baffled by the swiftness of it, a split second after approaching the copse of trees, he was on the other side of them, and facing a large building. The building was old. Its dull red bricks bore evidence of many decades of use. Etched into a faded gray slab of cement inset into the bricks above the building's entrance were the words: SAINT IGNATIUS HIGH SCHOOL FOR BOYS.

Horatio paused. The school had never been this close to the park. Not in reality.

He turned his head to glance again at the cluster of trees that had been behind him. They were gone. Instead, in their place were the city streets that had always surrounded the old high school. Things appeared just as they should have. Well, just as they should have thirty-five years ago. But there was one thing that was different – and it was significant.

There were no people. No cars. The school seemed to be sitting in the middle of a ghost town.

No… that wasn't right. The area was not entirely deserted. Something was out there. _Someone…_

The pounding of an object hitting a hard surface continued to draw him on. He walked toward the back of the old school, and there he found the source of the noise. He stood off to the side of the school's basketball court and watched the figure of a grown man dribbling a basketball against the hard concrete surface, the rhythm of it constant, steady, sure. The man, his back to Horatio, wore an old tee shirt with the words on it almost faded beyond recognition: ST. IGNATIUS KNIGHTS.

Horatio remembered having worn such a shirt in his past. That was during his time as one of the basketball stars of his old high school. School and basketball. Both had sustained him during those turbulent youthful years. Both had provided him a refuge from the horrors at home.

The man abruptly stopped dribbling, and his sudden inaction diverted Horatio's thoughts from the dreary path they were starting to take. The basketball player still had his back to Horatio as he stood at center court, took careful aim, and sailed the ball through the hoop. Horatio grinned with pleasure and surprised himself by calling out, "That's the way, buddy! That's how you do it!"

The basketball player caught the ball, and then slowly turned to face Horatio. Before Horatio could react, the man threw the ball at him, causing Horatio to think fast and make a defensive grab for it.

"And that's how _you_ do it, brother," said Raymond Caine.

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

Flat Liner!

Chapter Three - You Gotta Love Livin', Baby, 'Cause Dyin' is a Pain in the Ass*

_*Frank Sinatra, American Musician (1915-1998)_

* * *

"And that's how _you_ do it, brother," said Raymond Caine, as he threw the ball straight toward Horatio's chest.

Horatio managed to catch the basketball, and then staggered as he took a step backward. "Raymond!" he exclaimed, shock taking his breath away momentarily.

He stared in disbelief at the man in the faded high school tee-shirt. Droplets of perspiration peppered the younger man's brow and the damp shirt clung to the muscles of his chest. Yes... it was Raymond. _And_ in the flesh. It was also the Raymond who had died more than five years earlier. He had not aged at all.

_Unlike me,_ Horatio thought.

"Raymond," repeated Horatio, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Is it really _you_?" Unable to accept what he was seeing, Horatio let the ball drop from his hands. Urgently, he grasped Ray's biceps on either side and pulled him close. After a brief but thorough examination, a joyful light began to dance in Horatio's eyes. "Raymond!"

"None other," said his brother, cheerfully. "In the flesh and at your service."

"But - how?" Horatio stared at him. The man standing before him looked like Raymond; sounded like him. He felt... _real_. He _was_ real. _What the hell?_

Ray grinned. "Why so surprised? Who else would be shooting hoops on the court of this old, broken-down high school - and wearing _this_." He gestured to his washed-out tee-shirt and asked, "Remember this?"

He did: Horatio remembered having such a shirt from his days on the high school basketball team. He'd given it to his kid brother, who took to wearing it when playing ball with his friends. On weekends, Horatio would take the kid down to the high school and play a little one-on-one with him, teaching him 'the moves' - and the kid always wore the shirt like a badge of honor. It made the younger boy feel -

"Special," said Raymond, finishing Horatio's unspoken thought. "It made me feel special. I used to wear this ratty old shirt all the time, remember? Hell, I'd have lived in it if Ma didn't grab it once in awhile to give it a good wash."

The memory brought a brief smile to Horatio's face, one that didn't linger. His chest was beginning to ache, and he again could hear the urgent murmurings of the voices. _This is too much_, he thought. _What's happening to me? How can this be? _

He absently rubbed his chest, and looked into Raymond's eyes. "What's going on, Ray? What are you doing here? Am I... dead?"

Ray cocked his head to one side and coolly regarded Horatio. "Would it matter? You'd like to be dead, wouldn't you?"

Horatio frowned. Before he could reply, Ray bent down and picked up the basketball. "C'mon, big brother, let's play a little one-on-one. Show me what'cha got - that is, if you've got anything left!" Raymond began to circle Horatio, dribbling the ball and surprising his brother with aggressive feints on either side of him.

"C'mon, Horatio, let's go... give me something back!" he growled.

Horatio shook his head, annoyed. "Knock it off, Ray - I want to know why you're here... why _I'm_ here."

"And _I_ want to play ball. What's the matter?" he asked, his tone suddenly nasty. "Have you lost your touch? Or is it your nerve? You never used to be afraid to take me on. Isn't that what you're good at - taking me on? Isn't that what you've always done? My brother, the big man. Knows everything... always in charge. _Always right!_"

"What are you talking about?" asked Horatio, losing patience. "I want some answers."

"You want answers. Yeah, I bet you do. You always had a lot of questions. _Why are you doing this, Raymond? Why can't you be responsible? You're a husband, Raymond, a father. Why don't you straighten up and take care of your family? Do you want to be like the old man? Do you want to hurt your wife and child?_ Christ! What a broken record you could be!"

Listening to Raymond's bitter outburst, Horatio could only stare at him. _Is this what eternity is going to be - a pissing match with Ray?_

Abruptly, he turned his back on the other man and began walking away from the basketball court. If Horatio had experienced any momentary doubt that he was in his brother's presence, it had vanished with his puerile behavior.

"Hey!" yelled Raymond. "Where are you going? Come back!"

Ignoring him, Horatio continued walking, heading for a street that would lead him far from the high school.

"You can't just leave! You can't go anywhere without me. Do you hear me? Come back!"

Horatio had almost reached an intersection and was about to cross the street when the tone of Ray's voice changed.

"Wait! Don't go, Horatio - please."

Finally, Horatio turned and faced him. "Why not?"

His brother's cocky manner disappeared, and hints of confusion and sadness appeared on his face. He walked slowly to Horatio's side. "Because... because I've missed you," he said earnestly.

Horatio tried again. "What's going on, Raymond? How can you be here?" He nodded his head toward the old school. "What is all this? Why am I here?"

"It's hard to put into words..."

"Try, please."

Raymond started to say something, but then looked away.

"I see," said Horatio. He took a deep breath. "It's the only thing that makes sense... if you won't say it, I will. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what _exactly_?"

"You're, uh, caught for a moment... suspended in time."

His face troubled, Horatio's brows drew together. "Suspended? I don't understand."

"Suspended - you know, hanging - somewhere beyond time and space. Brother, you are in that little area between life and death... dangling between here and there. Sort of like... a man without a country." Raymond rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the words that would make his brother understand.

"It's like this: you're caught in limbo, in a place - a dimension - where time or space has no meaning... you're experiencing both being and non-being. In some ways, this... experience... we are sharing is eternal; in another sense, it's over before I can finish the words in this sentence."

Frustrated, Horatio blew out a noisy breath. "You're speaking in riddles. This makes no sense!"

Suddenly, Raymond snapped his fingers in front of Horatio's face. "Think about it! Where were you before you saw me on the basketball court?"

"I was in the park," recalled Horatio. "Roosevelt Park. I... I was sitting on a bench."

"And before that?"

"Before that, I was..." Horatio thought hard, but he couldn't clearly recall what had come before he found himself sitting on the bench in the park. He had been somewhere else. Somewhere cold and impersonal. He had been about to join with something - something that was bigger than himself. The thought had been appealing at the time. He had been ready to merge with the... the...

Horatio kept reaching for the memory, but it eluded him.

Troubled, he looked closely into his brother's eyes. "Are you really Raymond?" he asked.

Ray nodded. "I am. I'm the essence of Raymond. His spirit... his thoughts. For you, I've put on a corporeal suit -"

"You're crazy!" interrupted Horatio, suddenly afraid.

"Well, that's not news, is it? You've said so a time or two in the past. But... if I'm crazy, so are you. You're the one talking with a dead man you found playing basketball at some old school you haven't seen in... what? Maybe, forty years? So, big brother, you tell me: how do _you_ explain my presence here - with you, and in this place?"

Raymond sighed, suddenly wistful, and pointed toward the school and the basketball court. "Remember the weekends there? You and me? We spent hours on that court. Anything to avoid being at home on Saturdays and Sundays... _Christ! _Weekends at home... they were always bad. The old man would be sitting around all day... drinking. We'd stay out on that court until after dark, and then we'd sneak into the house, hoping to avoid the old bastard... hoping he'd be passed out in the chair by then...

''You showed me all the moves on that court. You taught me so much..."

"Yeah - about basketball." Horatio couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. Again, he turned to leave, but felt Ray's arm reach out and grip his shoulder - a very real hand against his very real shoulder.

"Not just basketball," replied Ray. The wise-cracking façade was gone now. "Not just basketball," he repeated quietly. "Don't go, Horatio... not just yet."

Horatio looked at him and felt the old familiar tug. _His brother_.

No matter how often in the past Raymond's behavior had angered or perplexed him, Horatio could never walk away. Since the day Ray had been born into their troubled family, Horatio had felt a kinship with him, a responsibility for him. He was the only person in that tormented household that Horatio could identify with, protect. The kid was younger - and defenseless. Ray had never had a chance to be a child.

For some reason, Horatio never understood the same was true of himself. The behaviors he accepted and forgave in his brother, he never tolerated in himself.

Looking into his brother's eyes reminded Horatio of the many times the kid would look up at him, those same hazel eyes clouded with fear and confusion as they waited for their mercurial father's sudden and abrupt outbursts. It was during that time that Horatio embraced the role of protector, taking on oversight for the boy. Somehow, it calmed Horatio to soothe the troubled child.

Why that was so, Horatio never understood. He had been as afraid of his father as Ray, but somehow he found he could find the courage necessary to stand up to the violent man. Not for his own sake, but for his brother's.

Most of the time.

Seeing the old memories trail across his brother's face, Raymond gently released his shoulder. He knew he had convinced him. Horatio would stay.

"Horatio," he began again, "I'm here because I don't really have a choice. Not that I would have refused... no, I was glad to get the call."

Horatio frowned. "The _call?"_

"Yeah. The summons. You're in trouble, brother. You realize that, right?"

Horatio started to object, but Raymond raised his hand, forestalling any protestations.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. My brother: so guarded, proper and stiff. Aways the straight-arrow, ever doing the right thing.

"Look, you're hanging between heartbeats right now, so let's not play games. It can go either way. You'll go on to the next beat of your heart, join again with the living... or you won't. It's that simple. But it's your choice." Ray stopped suddenly, and looked around, a look of annoyance crossing his features. "If you choose to return to the living, the next heartbeat will occur - and you'll be yanked back. To the _voices_."

Horatio stared at him. "Voices? You know about them? Can you hear them?"

"No," said Raymond, dismissively. "They're _your_ voices, not mine. They are the voices of people who are trying to hold on to you, keep you from letting go of life. You hear them even now, don't you?"

Horatio nodded. Now that he was focusing on them, the voices swelled with intensity. Hearing them disturbed him; he began to rub his chest in circular fashion and a look of disquiet appeared on his face. "Yes, I hear them. Sometimes the sounds seem to fade, but right now the volume is increasing. I hear them, but I can't figure out what they're saying."

"They're competing for you, trying to draw you back. When you focus on them, they become louder. Look at me, Horatio!"

Horatio fixed his attention on his brother's eyes.

"Are they beginning to diminish?"

Horatio dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Every time you focus on something other than the voices, you move farther away from their influence - _and_ your life. Right now, talking with me, you're pretty far away from them. In fact, you're barely hanging on to your life... you're still connected, but only by a very slender thread."

Horatio thought about his brother's words. There was a certain bizarre logic to them. "Okay, so what's the point of all this? Why not just let me go? Where are you in all of this? Is your job to convince me to stay here?"

"Here? No, not _here_. Besides, I don't need to convince you to give up on life. You gave up on life a long time ago, brother. What's that saying? _You gotta love living, because dying is a pain in the ass_?"

Raymond paused, thinking. "That's not true for you, Horatio, is it? Not lately. It's the living that's a pain in the ass for you. Every damn day is a chore for you. Man! You don't know how lucky you are! You still have a chance to change things, to be happy. But you're just tossing it all away. You're being an idiot, brother."

"What the hell do you know about it?" asked Horatio, his voice bitter. "You don't know what it has been like... not since you left. You don't know a damn thing."

"You're right, I don't," said Ray. "Wish I did, though. We're not allowed to see anything except the time span in which we lived. Some sort of rule or something: _Thou shalt not see anything having to do with the living_." He lowered his voice, taking on a sarcastic, magisterial tone: "Thus sayeth The Powers That Be: IT IS FORBIDDEN."

Suddenly, the caustic mockery left his face, replaced by wistfulness and something Horatio couldn't quite identify but which squeezed his heart painfully nevertheless.

"It all goes by so damned fast, Horatio," said Raymond sadly. "One minute, you're a man in the prime of your life, feeling as if the world is your oyster, waiting for you to do whatever you want with it, and the days before you stretch out endlessly... and in the next, you're an old man. Or dead. And you realize, all that angst, all that 'despair' - what had been the point? Just a waste of precious moments, all of it.. a fucking joke played on chumps.

"Don't be a fool!" said Ray suddenly, seizing his brother's shoulders. "Don't be like me! You hear me? Don't let Time play a sucker's game on you!"

Horatio took a step backward. He could barely hear the voices now, and he was content to let them go silent.

_A sucker's game?_ Well, he was weary of it. All of it. What difference would it make if he let go? What difference had his life ever made for anyone? It hadn't made a bit of difference for his mother. He hadn't been able to save her. It certainly hadn't made any difference for Raymond who, in spite of his concern, still ended up in trouble. _Trouble?_ Hell, Ray had ended up fatally beaten, hanging from his ankles from the roof of some miserable shack in Rio.

_Christ._ He could make a list of all the people he'd let down, in spite of his best intentions.

"What are you saying to me, Ray?" he asked at last.

Raymond smiled sadly. "What am I saying? I guess I'm trying to tell you that you're looking at your life all wrong. You're letting Time and heartache deceive you. You think your life hasn't made a bit of difference, don't you?"

"Oh, it made a difference... once or twice," replied Horatio quietly, thinking suddenly of Mari. "Just not a good one."

"You're wrong."

"Yeah? Tell that to my wife." An image of Marisol, lying beneath the dirt in a Miami cemetery, suddenly gripped him, and for several seconds he was unable to speak.

"Man," said Ray, his voice soft and sympathetic, "you really don't understand, do you?"

"What is there to understand? It's like you said: it's a sucker's game. The odds were stacked against us from the beginning, Ray. Well, I'm sick of it. I don't want to think about it anymore... I don't want to _feel_ anymore. It hurts too much. Living seems a lot harder than dying.

"Sometimes... sometimes I wish I could start over! I'd do things differently... I wouldn't get so involved... maybe I wouldn't have been a cop..."

"You were born to be a cop. To be anything else would have been a waste of material. It wouldn't have been you."

"Maybe it should have been... "

The voices were muted now. Horatio began to feel himself losing substance... it was a gradual fading away.

"HORATIO. Look at me. Now. Focus. You can't go - not yet." Ray's voice, urgent and authoritative, pulled Horatio back from wherever he'd been headed. "Listen to me: I've been sent here for a reason. It's not time for you to go yet. You've got a lot of living in front of you. You have a choice to make - an _informed_ choice."

"I'm tired, Ray. I just want to rest." Horatio looked down at his hand and noticed without any real interest that its shape seemed to be lacking distinctiveness. It appeared to be losing form. Raymond quickly grabbed it and held it tightly within his own.

"You don't go yet, you understand? You can't go! I've got an assignment. You have to let me complete my assignment!"

He abruptly let go of Horatio's hand, satisfied to see it was again completely realized. Even more gratifying was the sudden spark of interest in Horatio's formerly dull eyes.

"An assignment? And what might that be?"

The other man looked at Horatio intently. "You. You're my assignment. I think you may be the reason I'm here, Horatio." Raymond looked around, his eyes scanning the lifeless intersection. Finally, they again settled on the old high school across the way. "Seems I've been here forever... waiting for you. I got the call, and then just waited. The Powers That Be... well, they're not finished with you just yet. Seems there are things you still need to do. They've sensed your... what's the word? _Malaise?_ They know just how close you are to giving up. They don't want that."

"They don't, huh?" replied Horatio softly. He cocked his head, and ran the back of his hand across his chin, thinking. "If these beings are powerful, why don't they just force me back? It's in their power to do so, right?"

Ray hesitated, unsure how much about the beings he should divulge, how much he, himself, truly understood. "Horatio, they are powerful," he said, trying to put into words something that was beyond his power to communicate. "I don't really understand them, what they are. I guess they are sort of the 'keepers at the gate.' They have responsibility for the functioning of the various dimensions and timelines."

"Angels? Is that what you're talking about - are they angels?"

"Damn it, Horatio, I don't know. I really don't know what they are - I only sense them. I've never seen them. They communicate, but not in a way I understand - I just 'feel' them - what they want, what they urge me to do."

Horatio said nothing, his mind trying to digest Raymond's strange words. He focused on the pavement beneath his feet, trying to visualize these beings who were so interested in him. _Why him?_

"There is one thing, though, that is beyond their power."

Horatio looked up. "And that is?"

"Human will. Choice. They can only suggest, urge, plead. They cannot affect. Even they have their limitations. I get the feeling there is something even greater than these beings, something or someone who set it all in motion, and has placed parameters around their power to act.

"Horatio, for whatever reason, they don't want to let you give up. There's something - maybe a lot of somethings! - that you still have to address in your physical existence. Must be pretty damned important, maybe it affects the timeline. I don't know. All I know is that they called me here, and I've been here for what seems like forever, waiting for you."

Raymond finished speaking and again looked away from Horatio.

Horatio hesitated for a moment. He wanted to ask a question that was weighing heavily on his mind, but a part of him was afraid to raise it.

"Ray... do you ever see _him?_ Is _he_ wandering around here, too?"

His brother knew immediately who Horatio meant. "No, I've never seen the old man around here. I haven't seen anyone around here. It has just been me, the school, and the basketball court. Forever... waiting for this moment. Horatio, this is your reality; we can only see events and people that are important through you.

"This school was important to you - it was a refuge of sorts from the family. It's where we hung out. I think that's why I'm here... why I've always been here, waiting for you. But where we go next, what we see... that's your call."

Horatio considered this. "Well, I don't want to see the old man, that's a fact."

Raymond nodded, understanding. He didn't want to see him either. But whether he wanted to see him or not, it didn't matter. In the end, if it was necessary, he would be forced to see him.

And so would Horatio.

"Horatio, I told you I was given an assignment. I'm not real clear on exactly what it is or how to accomplish it. But I have a real strong sense that I'm supposed to help you understand that the choices you made in life did make a difference... that without you, things would have been... darker."

Frustrated by his own inability to communicate his thoughts, Ray roughly ran a hand through his hair. "Look, brother, I guess what I'm trying to say is that somehow you've kept things from tipping over into... chaos. There are people whose lives and actions have done that; they've done it through the little choices they make in life... hour by hour, day by day, year after year. You're one of them. If you weren't, I wouldn't be here, trying to make you understand."

Still mystified, Horatio asked, "Understand what?"

"That dying is the _real_ pain in the ass, Horatio - not living. It's the Living who make the difference, not the Dead. You were making a difference. You can still make a difference."

Horatio started to object, but Ray waved his objections aside. "Yeah, I know: you're tired, right?"

Horatio nodded. "I am. You say these powers think I made a difference... well, I can't see it. When I first started out, I believed it was possible. I thought if I did the right thing, things would work out."

Anguish suddenly washed across Horatio's face, and he said softly, "But they never did... they never did."

Suddenly, Raymond knew what he was supposed to do; it came to him clearly. And urgently.

"You're wrong, brother. Let me show you how wrong you are. Do you have the guts to go on a journey with me?

"What sort of journey?"

"A journey into your past."

"God, no!" Bitter laughter erupted from Horatio, and he held up his hands as if to protect himself. "That's the last thing I want to do. Even I have my limits!"

Ray frowned. "Scared?"

"Shitless," agreed Horatio, "and man enough to admit it. You think I want to relive some of those experiences?"

Sudden flashes of memory crossed his mind in quick succession, and he swayed during the unexpected onslaught: Marisol lying in a hospital bed; his friend, Speed, bleeding out on the floor of a jewelry store; and his mother, eyes vacant except for the remnants of terror she experienced in her last living moments.

"Thank you, but no," he said, his voice ragged. "I think I'll pass."

Raymond reached out to steady him. "Please, Horatio. I don't want to stay here forever... I don't think I can move on unless I finish this assignment. I'm caught here, and I'll be reliving these moments over and over until I can convince you to take a look at your life. You just have to take a look, Horatio... the choice to live or die will be yours... but you can't make the choice unless you look at the... the... the _totality_ of your life.

"I need you to do this, brother... please do this. _For me._"

_For me_. How many times had Ray managed to sway him with those words? _For me. _

It had always worked. Even when it went against his better judgment. His kid brother. His needy kid brother.

Unhappy and afraid of re-opening old wounds, he yet again found himself giving in to his brother's importuning. It had always been this way. _Does nothing ever change?_ He sighed, and then asked, "Are you sure about this, Ray? I really don't want to do this."

His brother nodded solemnly, not breaking eye contact. "I'm sure... surer than I've ever been of anything. You need this. I need it. And maybe... just maybe... your little part of the physical world needs it too."

"_My little part of the physical world..._" Horatio repeated. "You're not making much sense, you know that? But we're here and none of this makes any real sense. One thing hasn't changed: you're still pretty manipulative." A small smile played about Horatio's lips. "Okay, where do we begin?"

Releasing his grip on Horatio, Raymond smiled. "With the first step... doesn't every journey begin with the first step? You ready?"

Horatio hesitated, and then nodded.

"Good," said Ray, "let's go."

Together, the brothers took a step forward.

**To be continued.**


	4. Chapter 4

Flat Liner!

Chapter Four - Maggie

Together, Horatio and Raymond took a step forward. The landscape around them immediately broke into disconcerting waves of shimmering light particles. Behind them, what had been a high school and its surrounding grounds started melting away. Before them was an array of sparkling arcs of flashing color set against velvet blackness.

Abruptly, Horatio stopped walking and bent over, placing his hands against his knees, trying to stem feelings of rising vertigo. Ray reached forward and grasped his upper arm, pulling him back into a standing position.

"It passes," he said shortly. "Better to keep walking – things will resolve themselves as soon as we arrive at our destination."

"And where is that?" asked Horatio, his voice weak.

Raymond shrugged. "Wish I could tell you, but this is _your_ life, not mine. We go where you decide."

"You're speaking in riddles again," replied Horatio, unable to keep irritation from creeping into his voice.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to – but this is the way it is: we're visiting pieces of time and space that are important to you, moments that were turning points in your life or the lives of others. I can't tell you where that is – or when, for that matter. It's inside you – waiting to be brought to life. I'm just along for the ride. Guess you might say I'm here to lend a little moral support."

Horatio looked at him with skepticism. "Moral support? Well, that's a new role for you, isn't it, Ray?"

Raymond's brows rose. "Sarcasm, brother? Even now?"

"We've a history, remember?"

"And I'm here to make sure you have a future, okay?"

"You seem to care more about that than I do." Horatio immediately regretted his words when he saw a shadow cross his brother's face. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Okay, Ray, let's go... _somewhere_..."

Ray nodded and the two men took several steps forward into the brilliant chaos.

After a second or two, Horatio's vertigo began to pass and the landscape soon settled itself into something far different than the school yard in which Horatio had found his brother. They now discovered themselves standing inside a building, surrounded by small groups of people in various stages of unhappiness and distress. Men and women walked amongst the groups with quiet, no-nonsense efficiency. The air seemed to hum with a sense of urgency.

Looking at Horatio, Ray asked, "Any of this look familiar to you?"

Horatio frowned. "Yes... yes, it does. It's Saint Aggie's!" Bewildered, he turned to Ray. "Saint Agnes Hospital – the ER. God, I haven't been here in over thirty years... not since I left the NYPD...

"Why _here_, I wonder?"

Horatio watched the nurses taking medical histories, the young doctors speaking to confused patients with an air of self-importance that only youth and newly minted medical degrees could explain. _Why are we here?_ thought Horatio. _Raymond said we would be seeing places that had special meaning. But, Saint Aggie's?_

"You look confused, Horatio."

"I am. Hardly a week went by that I wasn't visiting this hole, seeing victims, interviewing injured perps, escorting the wounded. What could be the significance in something that occurred so routinely?"

"Something must have happened here that affected you, something important, otherwise –" Raymond's words suddenly trailed off as he spotted someone across the way. "Well, look at that... who do we have here?" he remarked, gesturing toward the figure dressed in a police officer's uniform, his back toward the brothers.

The cop was leaning against the desk in front of the nurse's station, speaking quietly with one of the attendants. Slowly, he straightened his posture, turned and looked about, his alert gaze traveling around the room. Horatio gasped when the officer looked in their direction.

_It was himself!_

A much younger version of himself, to be sure... but it was definitely himself. Horatio Caine.

"You okay?" asked Ray.

"How can this be?" he asked, his eyes reflecting amazement – and a little fear. "He's looking right at us!"

Raymond chuckled. "You mean _you're_ looking right at us!"

Swallowing deeply, Horatio replied, "Not funny, Raymond. I... I don't know what to say to him."

"You don't say anything to him. He doesn't see _you_. Look, he's already turning away."

It was with real relief that Horatio watched the younger version of himself casually turn back to speak with the nurse. Unaware until that moment that he'd been holding his breath, he exhaled nervously, irritated by Ray's answering laughter.

"Chill, brother, chill. The dude can't see you. No one can see us. We don't exist for them. We're just visitors to their time, observers."

Horatio thought about this. "This is a picture? Sort of like a movie?"

"Well, no... not exactly. This is actually happening somewhere in real time. We're just sort of layered over top of it, watching things, moving about and through time and space, but not really a part of it. You know, I really can't explain this stuff. It just _is_. Better to take it for what it is and go with the flow. The upshot is that no one can see or hear us."

Nodding at the ambiguity of his brother's feeble explanation, Horatio decided to accept Raymond's advice. _Take it for what it is._ What choice did he have?

His thoughts were suddenly diverted... over the thrum of the emergency room noise, a soft, clear voice began to subtly claim his attention. Faint at first, but gently rising in its intensity, the sweet soprano held him in its thrall. He immediately recognized the tune... and the singer.

"Maggie," he said, his voice suddenly choked. "Maggie."

Ray looked at him curiously. "'Maggie?' Who's Maggie?"

"Don't you hear that? The song?"

Ray stood still, listening hard. And then, slowly, he began to hear it. "A woman's voice? Where –?"

"Come on," said Horatio, taking the lead decisively and for the first time since his visit with Ray had begun. "This way..."

They walked past the younger Horatio, still conversing with the nurse at the front desk, and walked down a hallway where makeshift consultation rooms had been created and separated with long white curtains. As they approached one of the make-do rooms, they heard the tender, pretty voice coming clearly from within:

_Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling  
__From glen to glen, and down the mountain side  
__The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are dying  
__'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide._

_But come ye back when summer's in the meadow  
__Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow  
__'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow  
__Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so._

His face somber, Horatio stood outside the curtained area for a moment, just listening to the forlorn melody. His throat began to move convulsively as he seemed to push down some terrible emotion. Taking a deep breath, he resolutely pushed the curtain aside and entered the 'room', Raymond following behind.

There, lying on a temporary bed, his white face mottled with darkening bruises, was an eight-year old boy. His right arm lay close to his chest, resting in a sling imprinted with cheerful Star Wars characters on it, and next to him in the bed, clutched in his free hand was a Hans Solo action figure. His large green eyes were surrounded by lots of thickly starred reddish lashes, and the sadness in their depths was painful to see.

Sitting next to the bed was his mother, stroking the hair back from his forehead as she sang softly to him. As she finished the lyric, she leaned forward and kissed the pale forehead. "Better now, Danny?" she asked softly, looking intently into his serious little face.

"I'm tired, Mommy," he said.

"I know; we just need to speak with the doctor, and then we can go home, okay?"

Horatio walked over to the mother and son, and looked closely at them. His face crumpled, and he quickly looked away.

"Horatio?" asked Ray, coming to stand by him. "Who is she?"

Swallowing painfully, Horatio wiped the heel of his hand quickly across his eyes, surprised to see the hand come away dry. _Had life so jaded him that he had no tears left to shed?_

Ignoring his brother, he leaned in close to the woman and looked at her wonderingly. "Maggie?" he asked brokenly. "Maggie, sweetheart, can it really be you?"

Unaware of his presence, the woman didn't respond.

Horatio's eyes drifted down to the child, who was speaking softly with his mother. A sweet smile, one full of nostalgia, sadness, and something else, stole across Horatio's face as he gazed at the boy. "Hey, sport... nice to see you again... after all these years," he said, his voice laced with tenderness.

"Mommy, will _he_ be there? I'm... afraid," said the child. His face was troubled as he continued to look at his mother.

Maggie's eyes filmed momentarily and she was unable to speak for a second or two. "Danny, it's okay. He won't be there, I promise you."

"Horatio," said Ray, watching the mother and son, "what's going on? Who are they?"

Horatio looked at Ray, his face filled with emotion. "This... this is Maggie. Maggie Sullivan. The boy, he's her son, Danny." He shook his head, glancing again at the woman and boy, and then turned back toward Ray.

"Dear God," he said roughly, "It's a shock, seeing her again, after all this time... I don't think I can do this, Raymond. Not this... not this."

Raymond looked closely at the woman. She was, perhaps, mid-thirties. She had thick, dark auburn hair that hung in heavy waves about her shoulders. Handsome in a pleasing way, she possessed pale, creamy skin, and high, nicely sculpted cheekbones that stood out starkly in a too-thin face. Tense green eyes, similar to those that looked out of her boy's face, looked out of hers as well, and they were filled with love and a terrible anxiety. Again, she smoothed back her boy's tousled hair and it was then that Ray noticed the simple gold band on her slender finger.

Ray frowned. "Horatio, who was she to you?"

A short spurt of bitter laughter escaped from Horatio. "Who was she? The woman I loved, Raymond. The first woman I ever loved – and God! I loved her more than life back then... Sweet she was... my Maggie..." his voice trailed off, lost in hurting recollection.

The curtains parted unexpectedly, and both woman and son looked toward the young police officer who entered the small, private area. "Ma'am, can I talk with you and your son, please? I'm Officer Horatio Caine with the NYPD," he said, smiling encouragingly at the little boy.

"Well, would you look at you, Tin Man," remarked Ray, a gentle smile on his face as he observed his brother of yesteryear. "Tell me, were you even old enough to shave back then?"

"Barely... I was only twenty-two," replied Horatio in an odd voice, still unsettled by the sight of his younger self. "I'd only been on the Force about a year, maybe. I was pretty raw - but not so raw that I didn't realize what was going on here..."

"Shhh... let's listen for a moment. I want to hear what they're saying," said Ray.

* * *

_"What do you want, Officer?" asked the woman. She looked at Horatio coolly and without welcome._

_"You're... uh... Mrs. Sullivan? Margaret Sullivan?"_

_"That's right. And you still haven't said what you want with us." _

_"The hospital staff called in your son's injury... said you might need some assistance from the department."_

_Maggie Sullivan looked at the young police officer, her face giving away nothing. "We don't need anything. We're good."_

_"Really? Well, you won't mind if I ask a few questions, right?" Horatio looked at the boy in the bed and smiled reassuringly. "Hey, sport... how's that arm? Feeling any better?"_

_A small, tentative smile started to work its way across the boy's face. "It's okay. It hurt at first, but it don't now."_

_"Good man... What's your name, sport?"_

_"Danny."_

_"Okay, Danny... you know what? I heard your Mom singing to you a few minutes ago. You like your Mom to sing to you?"_

_Maggie blushed; she hadn't realized her voice had carried. Her son, however, beamed. "Yeah, I do. She sings to me a lot."_

_Grinning, Horatio remarked, "That's good, real good. Tell me something, Danny... okay, sport? Tell me... how did you hurt your arm, son?"_

_The boy threw a quick, troubled look his mother's way. _

_Catching the meaningful look, Horatio leaned closer. "Danny, did someone hurt you, son?"_

_Suddenly, Maggie rose to stand. "Danny, I'm going to step outside with Officer Caine for a moment or two. You wait here – understand?"_

_Danny nodded, and Maggie and Horatio walked through the curtained partition, back out into the hallway. They had walked several steps down the corridor, out of earshot of the boy, when Maggie turned on him, her creamy skin blotched with redness in her sudden anger._

_"What do you think you're doing?" she asked furiously. "Why are you asking these questions? Who the hell do you think you are?"_

_Horatio frowned. "I'm an officer with the New York Police Department, Mrs. Sullivan, that is who I am."_

_"You're just a kid," she said. She waved her hand dismissively at him._

_"Not so much a kid that I don't recognize the signs of physical abuse on that boy."_

_"You don't know what you're talking about! He fell... that's all. He fell out of bed... and his arm..."_

_Horatio interrupted, "Yeah, does that a lot, doesn't he? Let's see," he said, pulling a notebook from his breast pocket. "Let's see... guess he fell out of bed eight months ago when he had to have stitches across his cheek... And, oh yeah, his arm was pulled from its socket last year ... did he fall out of bed then, too?"_

_Shocked, Maggie stood there, listening. "How do you know all this?" she whispered._

_"Because the hospital keeps a record of recurring, suspicious injuries in children. And then they call the NYPD. So, you tell me, Mrs. Sullivan, you want to play dumb with me or do you want to tell me why your son is always coming to the ER with injuries?"_

_"Please... just leave us alone. We're fine... we'll be fine."_

_"That boy in there," said Horatio, pointing down the hall toward the curtained room, "that boy is NOT fine. Do you want to lose your son? Because you are in danger of doing so... I can file a report that will have Child Custody here before you can leave this hospital - and, unless you talk to me, that's I what I intend to do."_

_The two stood facing each other, both determined, and both at odds with one another. But then a moment passed, and Maggie spoke. "I need to sit down, please." Her shoulders seemed to curl forward in defeat, and she looked about for a chair to sit in._

_"This way," said Horatio, putting a hand behind the small of her back. He hailed one of the young nurses he had a passing acquaintance with. "Ma'am," he said to attendant, "can we get a glass of water for Mrs. Sullivan? She's unwell."_

_The nurse nodded and went in search of the water as Horatio directed the shaken woman to a chair against the ER wall. She sank gratefully into the chair and closed her eyes. "Please don't take my son away from me... please..."_

_Sitting down next to her, he folded his hands between his knees and leaned forward, staring into the distance. "Then talk to me," he said quietly, "because I don't like what I saw in that room."_

_Maggie opened her eyes and saw that Horatio was not looking at her; it made it easier for her to speak, and so she began. "My son... my boy, he's a good boy, Officer. Too good for a little boy his age. He tries so hard to do the right thing. I worry about him... always trying to be so good, not to cause any notice... he's missing his childhood, the spontaneity of it."_

_Horatio nodded. "Why does he try so hard? He's afraid of messing up, isn't he? Who's he afraid of, Mrs. Sullivan?"_

_Maggie started to speak, but the sudden lump in her throat prevented her from doing so._

_Horatio tried again. "Ma'am, where's your husband? Why isn't he here?"_

_Anger and despair welled up in the woman, and she found herself capable of speech after all. "He's not here! The bastard! I hope... I hope we never see him again... if I do, I'll kill him, I swear I will!" _

_Aghast at her sudden outburst, Maggie looked at Horatio. This time he was looking back at her. She saw something in his eyes, an answering recognition that both soothed and puzzled her. She found her strength returning. A few tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and threatened to track their way down her face, but she resolutely blinked them away. 'I won't give him this!' she thought angrily, 'I'm done letting that son of a bitch make me cry!'_

_The nurse had returned with a paper cup filled with water, and after she left them, Horatio handed the cup to Maggie. He looked at her intently. "Tell me about him," he said, "and take as much time as you need."_

_Maggie took a sip of the water and then leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, seeing nothing. "Where do I even begin?" she asked. "Rory Sullivan is his name. He has... anger issues."_

_An ugly smile appeared on Horatio's face. "'Anger issues'... a polite way of saying he has a violent temper?"_

_She sighed. "Yes, I suppose so. That's how Father Smith characterized it."_

_"Father Smith?"_

_She looked at him. "He's our priest. He married us... about eight years ago." A bitter look crossed her face as she saw Horatio do the math in his brain. "Don't bother," she said shortly. "I was pregnant with Danny – very pregnant – when I married Rory."_

_"Is Rory the boy's father?"_

_"I'm not a tramp, Officer... of course, he's my son's father."_

_Horatio blushed. He was still young enough that his clumsiness embarrassed him. "I could have worded that better – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply –"_

_"Save it," she said. Her voice reflected her tiredness, and again she looked at the ceiling. "I know you didn't mean anything. I... I'm very sensitive about the circumstances of Danny's birth. Danny began as a... a mistake."_

_Horatio's brows rose at her choice of words, and she sought to reassure him. "Not that I see him that way now!" she said quickly, her tone desperate as she tried to make him understand. "What I mean is that the circumstances that created Danny were a mistake. I love Danny, Officer – with all my heart. Enough to do anything to protect him!"_

_"Go on," he said quietly._

_"I met Rory he came to the house to deliver my dad's oxygen... my father was in the last stages of lung cancer. My mother died when I was fourteen, and I became the mother and caregiver to my younger brothers. When they grew up and left home, I stayed behind to take care of Dad. By that time he was in the late stages of the cancer. There was no money for a nurse; it fell to me to take care of him."_

_"Your brothers didn't help?"_

_She smiled. "What's that old saying... ' a son's a son 'til he takes a wife; a daughter's a daughter the rest of her life'... well, that was pretty much it in our house. I didn't have much of a social life." She laughed suddenly with irony. "Hell, I didn't have any social life! Dad's care took up all of my time. It was pretty harrowing, watching him struggle for breath._

_"Rory worked for a service that provided oxygen tanks to outpatients, and that's how I got to know him. He was a handsome man, and he used to flirt with me when he'd come by the house. I began to live for those moments... it was the nearest I got to a social life with a man. That's sad, isn't it? But I was so closed in, on-call to Dad all the time, and very lonely. And Rory seemed kind and charming. He began to bring me little bunches of flowers when he'd stop by, and say sweet things... I was starved for companionship that didn't consist of doctors' appointments, hospital visits, and tense calls with my brothers about my Dad's condition. I was only twenty-seven years old... I wanted to have some fun!_

_"Makes me sound pretty awful, I guess..."_

_Horatio smiled kindly. "Makes you sound normal."_

_"Maybe... but I grew too dependent on Rory for some sort of connection with the outside world. One night, after he got off work, he came by the house to see me. It had been a particularly difficult day with Dad, and he was finally resting peacefully when I let Rory in. The day's problems had caught up with me and... well, Rory was there, and I was sad... I needed something, someone. _

_"I was so depressed and frightened; you know, mortality can be a very scary thing, Officer. It's horrible to spend your waking hours worried that death is at hand, and your sleeping ones listening for its approach. I wanted to forget all that... and so, Rory spent the night... he helped me keep the Grim Reaper out of my thoughts for that one evening. Just my luck: to get pregnant."_

_She took another sip of the water and then continued. "Dad died a few days later. After having cared for him for so long, I went into a depression, unsure what to do with myself at that point. He had been the focus of my life – and then he was gone. And I was still there... alone."_

_A sweet, sad smile suddenly graced her face as she looked at Horatio. "As it turned out, not entirely alone. Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant."_

_Horatio felt something begin to stir inside himself as he listened to Maggie's words. Compassion for her, anger for the injured child down the hall, and something else tugged at him. He knew that Maggie's story would not have a happy ending._

_"And Rory?" he asked._

_"Rory," she said, her smile turning bitter. "The charming man who threw compliments and posies my way had suddenly gone missing. After that night we spent together, I didn't see him again. Several months went by... I worked up the courage to call the company he worked for, and got him on the line. I needed to tell him about Danny, about the baby."_

_"How did he take the news?"_

_"He took it okay - good Catholic boy, my husband. He did the right thing, and he seemed willing to take responsibility. We were married by the priest where he'd always attended church._

_"Officer, I don't mind admitting to you that I was filled with hope when we got married! I moved into the small apartment in which he lived, started sewing curtains, making it nice for us, for the baby. I was so grateful to Rory - he'd given me a reason for living. I had him and a baby on the way. I was no longer alone. And, at first, things were good. Rory seemed happy to have me there, happy about the baby on the way."_

_Horatio nodded. "I take it that didn't last."_

_"It did for a while... a few years. Then the economy worsened. He never made much money delivering hospital supplies anyway, but then the company cut back on his hours. I couldn't work – I had no one to watch Danny, and we didn't have money to pay someone to watch him. Things grew increasingly tense. The charm that was his trademark disappeared – at least inside our home. I suspect it was in abundance when he was out drinking with his friends. He began to come home late, and then, later, not to come home until the next morning. Told me he'd done enough for me already, and that it was his business if he needed to unwind after working all day. His life, he said, was nothing but money problems, two additional mouths to feed, and tension._

_"Funny thing is, I saw his point of view. I felt guilty – as if getting pregnant and having to ask him to marry me was all my fault. And so I compensated for a time. I looked the other way at the late nights, his rough behavior toward me, the angry words. I tried to make the apartment nice, a place he'd want to come home to... I grew quite creative at making something out of nothing._

_"In the end, it didn't work. He grew angrier that he was 'saddled' with the two of us. The first time he... he hurt Danny, I went to Father Smith. I was frightened. Danny had always tried to stay out of Rory's way; he was afraid of the rough side of his father's tongue. But Rory had never physically harmed him, but that night he'd gotten angry with Danny because he'd left his toys in the hallway, and Rory tripped over one of them._

_"He ran into the living room, yanked Danny up from the floor by his arm, and pulled him into the hall, berating him for having left toys scattered about. Then he let him loose and stormed out of the apartment. I ran into the hallway, and Danny had collapsed, his face white. Rory had wrenched his arm from its socket. That was our first visit to the ER."_

_She closed her eyes. "I talked with Rory's priest after that, asked him to speak with Rory, to help us. But the good Father seemed to think that the best way to deal with Rory's 'anger issues' was for me to be more understanding of what he was going through. He suggested that I explain to Danny that his father loved him, but was going through a bad time, and that we needed to be patient with him._

_"Well, that's easier said than done. Danny was frightened of Rory after he hurt his arm, and tried to escape his notice. Isn't that sad? A little boy creeping about his home, trying to be invisible, hoping his father won't notice him?"_

_"Why did you stay with him?" asked Horatio._

_She sat up in her seat and looked at him levelly. "What was I supposed to do? I had no options... no education, no job, no where to go."_

_"Your brothers – surely you could have gotten some help from them?"_

_She shook her head. "No – that's another story, and one I don't feel like going into. I've always been on my own."_

_"Mrs. Sullivan," said Horatio, "you can't take the boy back into that situation – you realize that, don't you?"_

_"Yes, yes... I know. I just don't know what to do..."_

_Horatio pulled open his notebook and started making some notes on a blank page. He then tore the piece of paper from the book and handed it to her. "Here, take this."_

_She looked at the paper curiously. "What's this?"_

_"It's the name of a social worker I know - she's good at what she does. She'll assist you in locating some resources that may give you and Danny some of those 'options' you lack. Now listen to me: there's a woman's shelter a few miles from here. You and Danny can stay there tonight. I'll take you, myself."_

_"You'll help us then? You won't turn Danny over to Child Custody?" she asked._

_Horatio saw the anxiety in her eyes and the tension at the corners of her mouth. "No, I won't. Not if you keep Danny away from his father. You have to promise me that, okay? You have to promise to keep the boy away from him. Now, where is Mr. Sullivan? Is he at your home?"_

_"I don't know. He left after... he left the apartment in a rage. That was after he pushed Danny off a chair."_

_"That's how he got the broken arm?"_

_"He was upset because Danny was reading at the table. He wasn't paying attention and knocked over a glass of water - it set Rory off."_

_"Okay," said Horatio, rising. He held out a hand to Maggie, helping her from the chair. "Let's go see Danny. You can tell him that you're not going home tonight. We'll get you settled at the shelter. I'll go by your place later, see if Mr. Sullivan is home - if he is, I'll have a talk with him. You okay now? Ready to face the boy?"_

_She nodded. She touched his forearm, and a charming, grateful smile sweetly raised up the corners of her mouth. The smile and the touch had been unexpected and had put Horatio off-balance. For a moment, he found himself unable to look away; Maggie's smile reached into her expressive green eyes, and lit up her countenance, softening the thin angles of her face. It held him captive._

_"Officer Caine - thank you. No one has ever offered to help me... Thank you for listening to me, and most of all, thank you for not taking Danny away. He's all I've got... I can't lose him."_

_"Mrs. Sullivan –"_

_"'Maggie,'" she said softly. "You can call me 'Maggie.'"_

_"Maggie," he repeated, looking at her. Her eyes still held him. They were soft and warm. "Maggie, have you and the boy eaten?" he asked._

_"No... Danny was too upset."_

_"And you?"_

_"I feel as if I've been walking on broken glass for so long, Officer – it's hard to have an appetite when you're scared all the time."_

_Horatio smiled. "Well, what do you say we do something about that? You, me and Danny – we'll stop and get a hamburger before we go to the shelter. Okay?"_

_She nodded. "Thank you – you're very kind."_

_"Go ahead, go talk to the boy... I'll make a call to the shelter. Then we'll go."_

_His eyes followed her lithe figure as she gracefully walked down the hallway, and then he walked toward the nurse's station, intent on making that call._

* * *

Raymond watched the younger Horatio dial the number to the women's shelter. He looked up to his brother, about to make a joke about his younger self being smitten by the woman, but stopped when he saw the expression on his brother's face.

His brother wasn't looking at his younger self, but instead his eyes were following Maggie as she returned to her son's room.

"So, what happened with her and the kid?" asked Ray, watching his brother.

Horatio turned and looked at him. "She didn't go home to her husband.

"Not that night..."

**To be continued.**


	5. Chapter 5

Flat Liner!

Chapter Five - Maggie Redux

"She didn't go home _that_ night," repeated Horatio quietly.

Raymond looked at his brother, trying to figure out what he was really saying. "But... some other night? Are you saying she went home some other night?"

Horatio nodded, his eyes still locked on the graceful figure. Slowly she retreated from view as her steps guided her down the hospital corridor toward the curtained 'room' where her son waited patiently.

"Tell me about it, brother."

Sighing, Horatio rubbed his chin. "Where to begin? After all this time, where do I begin?"

* * *

_Horatio smiled at the young boy who was bubbling over with excitement. _

_"What a great kite, 'Ratio! Wow... a Star Wars kite! Look at me, I'm Hans Solo," he cried, spinning around, pretending to fly the kite that was not yet airborne._

_Maggie laughed, and touched Horatio's hand. "Now you've done it! He'll never let you rest until you get that kite up in the air."_

_Horatio smiled. "I don't mind, Maggie. I'm glad he's excited." _

_It was a beautiful autumn day... one of the last truly warm days of the year; soon a cold snap would claim the city, forcing less hardy residents indoors for their leisure pursuits. 'But not yet,' thought Horatio, enjoying the remaining remnants from the too brief summer. Earlier, he'd picked up Maggie and the boy from the shelter and surprised them with a trip to Jones Beach. The kite, which he'd seen hanging in a merchant's window the night before, was the inspiration for the trip. Horatio decided it might be fun to take the boy to the beach and show him how to fly the kite. The idea had been a good one; Maggie's happy laughter confirmed it. As for Danny, he was beside himself with elation. _

_Horatio adjusted his position on the blanket, stretching out his lean body and rolling onto his side, the upper part of his body supported by one strong forearm which rested on a space near Maggie's knee. "Tell you what, sport," he said, looking at Danny, "why don't you finish up your lunch, and then we'll get that kite sailing high above the ocean. Okay?"_

_Frowning, Danny looked at this mother. "I'm not hungry... can we fly the kite now?"_

_"No, mister, you may not," said Maggie, adjusting the zipper on his hoodie. "Just because you've eaten your fill doesn't mean Horatio has... Tell you what, why don't you take a walk down by the water and look for some pretty shells for me. By then, Horatio will have finished that chicken on his plate. Just make sure not to go too close to the water's edge. Okay?"_

_The boy looked first at his mother and then at the red-haired man lounging next to her. Seeing neither was going to give in, he shrugged, resigned to waiting. "Okay... just don't be too long, 'Ratio, okay?"_

_Horatio grinned. "Okay, sport."_

_Maggie watched the boy run joyfully toward the water, trying to keep his balance amongst the shifting sands, and a complicated expression appeared on her face. Noticing it, Horatio asked, "Maggie?"_

_She turned liquid green eyes his way and Horatio's heart gave a small, involuntary leap. _

_He loved her eyes, warm and green, and when unguarded, full of laughter. He'd discovered just how full of laughter they could be during these last few weeks. They had been happy weeks for Horatio, looking out for Maggie and her boy. He soon discovered he was pretty good at wringing a smile from her. Even, sometimes, peals of merry laughter as she watched his antics with her son. It gave him a pretty good idea of the lively girl she must have been before so many things went wrong in her life. Still, she was often guarded, even with him, and it hurt him to see it. _

_It hurt him because Horatio had fallen in love with the beautiful woman. He had the uncomfortable feeling that his Maggie viewed him as much a boy as her son. She'd touch his hand, his arm... fleeting, careless gestures that left him wanting more, and yet never seemed to provoke in her the same warm tide of feeling they did in him. _

_He realized she was older than he – almost fifteen years older – but he didn't give a damn. He was older than most twenty-two year olds. His father had seen to that... and what innocence that Horatio might still have retained after living with that difficult man had been tested by the profession he'd chosen for his life's work. There wasn't much he didn't know about people and what they were capable of, and it bothered him that Maggie failed to understand that aspect of him. It worried him that she seemed to view him, at best, as a younger brother._

_Brother! He hated the idea that she might entertain a sisterly affection for him._

_What was it about the handsome auburn-haired woman that made him love her? It was more than the protective feeling she aroused in him. Horatio knew all about feelings of protectiveness; he'd had his fair share of those feelings with regard to his hapless mother and troubled kid brother. _

_'This is something different,' he thought, gazing at Maggie's troubled expression. 'This is more than... protection.' _

_There was something about the pretty curve of her upper lip and its too tender lower one that drew him. Something, too, in the way the thick waves of her dark red hair gracefully curtained her shoulders – he longed to touch those waves, lose his fingers in their softness. It seemed to Horatio that she wore her hair as a cloak, as if it might guard her from a cold and harsh world. He wanted to push that heavy mass behind those vulnerable shoulders, assuring her there was nothing to fear. Not while he was with her._

_Her soft skin, the slight rose in her cheeks – everything about her was beguiling to Horatio, all the more so because she didn't seem to understand her effect on him. He found his eyes following the slender column of her throat as it gave way to the gentle slope of two full breasts. Like the sweet hollow at the base of her throat, the barely hidden cleft between her breasts was a tempting area that his lips longed to explore._

_Horatio was indeed older than his twenty-two years in many ways thanks to a mercurial father and a profession that quickly educated its practitioners. But there was one way in which he was still very young – and that was in the ways of women._

_Horatio Caine was, in spite of all his experiences, good and bad, a virgin. _

_It was something that had never bothered him much until he met Maggie Sullivan. Oh, there had been the frantic, desperate gropings with teenage girls in the last rows of darkened, half-empty movie theaters, but nothing meaningful – and certainly nothing consummated. He never cared to truly risk his heart. _

_He'd seen the ways of men and women growing up in the tough Caine household, and he hadn't been in a hurry to go out and create a family of his own. Families, he'd discovered, were a double-edged sword; for every good moment, there seemed to be two that were hurtful. Having finally achieved his freedom from the Caines, he was reluctant to create a family of his own. He feared the legacy his father had left him... would he be cruel? Violent like his old man? He didn't think so... his father's rages often made him vomit. He didn't think he'd recreate them... but how could he be sure? And until he was sure, he was content to stay single, free of entanglement._

_But then he met Maggie and Danny, and something in the woman's fierceness that day at the hospital had won his admiration as well as his regard. She was strong... and yet soft. And he so wanted to explore that softness. Horatio looked at the swell of her hips against the short, faded denim skirt she wore and experienced a sudden and pleasant stirring below that both excited and embarrassed him. Sitting up quickly, he asked the pensive woman, "Maggie, is something wrong?"_

_"No, no..."_

_"Ah, Maggie, don't pretend... I can see something is bothering you... What is it, sweetheart?"_

_Her eyes flickered at the foolish endearment, and after a moment a pretty smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Oh, it's just... sitting here, watching Danny by the edge of the shore, looking expectant, happy... This is the way his life is supposed to be, Horatio. He's a little boy. Life should be full of grand adventures for him, every day should be spent spinning foolish fantasies, slaying dragons... being a Jedi knight." She laughed softly, and then grew sad. "No little boy should wake up from terrible dreams that his father is coming after him. No little boy should be afraid of his own father."_

_Her fingers roughly raked back locks of hair the wind had blown haphazardly about her face. "Sometimes I wonder if he will hate me one day for the fears he has had to endure." Her troubled gaze once again settled upon the child. _

_"Maggie," said Horatio, his voice serious, "this isn't your fault. I don't want you to blame yourself for this... it's the boy's father, not you, who is responsible for Danny's nightmares. And, you know, with time, stability, he'll be okay. Kids are pretty resilient."_

_She looked at him, catching something in his tone. "And how would you know that, Officer?" she asked lightly. "You've no children. Why, you're almost as young as Danny!"_

_"Don't do this, Maggie," he said quietly, his voice almost angry._

_"What?"_

_"Stop treating me like I'm one of your kid brothers. You must know how I feel about you."_

_She said nothing for several minutes, refusing to look at him. _

_Mutely, Horatio watched her lovely profile as she seemed to study the shoreline. Finally, he could stand the silence no longer and he reached for her hand and brought it softly to his lips. _

_She then turned and looked at him and her heart seized with a sudden, painful longing. 'He's so beautiful,' she thought, watching the salty breeze play with his bright red hair. The vivid blue eyes looked deeply into hers, and she saw something there she'd never before seen in any man's eyes. _

_All the rawness and vulnerability of young love was in those eyes – it was a look that only the very young possess, those who haven't yet learned to hide their hearts. Why should they? Their hearts had not yet been battered by the reality that love could cut deeper than the sharpest knife. The look of a first-time lover – that was something new for Maggie, and it filled her with conflicting emotions._

_'He's so young!' she thought bitterly. 'Too young... Why couldn't I have met someone like him years ago? Why now? He's kind. And good, good to me, to Danny. He cares about me, it's there in his face to read. He wants me... but it's wrong... isn't it? He should be with someone closer to his own age, planning his own family... not involved with someone older... someone who has a troubled past and a complicated future.'_

_She told herself all these things, but her heart didn't want to hear them. She wanted this handsome young man. She wanted his strength, his kindness, his exuberance. His passion! She'd feigned unawareness of his growing attraction to her, but a woman always recognizes her power. Maggie had never been in a position of power before – in some ways, she was as raw as Horatio. Her life had been a hardscrabble existence, bereft of passion, and Danny the only good thing in it. _

_Until now._

_Didn't she deserve a little joy? Hadn't she been a good person? Her girlhood had been spent in the service of her father and brothers once her mother died. And then, a young woman, she'd spent precious years caring for her dying father, her only society that poor, sick old man... and Rory, when he'd deliver the oxygen to the house. Wasn't it her time for love? And just a little happiness?_

_She bit her lip as she thought of all the reasons she shouldn't give in to the young man's passion... and they all slid away as she watched him turn the sensitive palm of her hand upward and, lowering his head, tenderly kiss its center. _

_"Maggie," he whispered, "please, Maggie... don't make me beg..."_

_She glanced toward her son, happily chasing the seagulls up and down the shoreline, his enthusiasm causing them to take off in erratic flight. Something seemed to suddenly click for the beautiful woman, and the years of sadness and disappointment temporarily dropped away. She smiled then, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth that Horatio hadn't yet seen and he caught his breath at the sight of her. And then she leaned forward and kissed his mouth, allowing her lips to linger as Horatio ran possessive hands up her arms and brought her closer. He sensed surrender in the supple softness of her posture and the moist warmth of her lips, and he wanted to extend the moment indefinitely._

_The memory of the boy by the shore soon broke the lovers' kiss. His voice rough, Horatio said, "Come home with me, Maggie. You and Danny... I've got a place... it's small, but Danny can sleep on the couch – it rolls out into a bed, sweetheart." He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. "It's big enough for you both... if that's what you want. 'Til you're sure of things. And... well, I'd work for you, Maggie... I'm not always going to be a street cop. This is just a beginning... we'll get a house one day, outside the city... it'll be a good life for Danny, I promise... and for you, sweetheart, I'll make it a good life. You'll never worry again..."_

_She put a finger to his lips, trying to stop the torrent of optimistic promises that floated out into the wind. The breeze seemed to whisper a sad warning in her ears: 'too young... too young...'_

_Horatio sensed his enthusiasm was too much for her and got himself under control. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Just think about it, Maggie, think about it." _

_With that, he quickly rose to his feet and ran down to the shoreline, scooped up the young boy and twirled him about. His voice drifted back to her... "Okay, sport... let's fly that kite now!"_

_Maggie sat there, watching her son and the young man who'd made the declaration to her. She saw how good he was to her boy, and smiled as she heard Danny cry out, "'Ratio, make it fly! Make it fly into outer space!"_

_When was the last time the boy had looked so happy? When had life for him seemed uncomplicated and full of the sorts of things that most little boys took for granted? But still her conscience troubled her. Her eyes followed the tall, slim redhead, and Maggie felt a sense of misgiving. He loved her. She wasn't sure what it was about her that had caught his heart, but there was no doubt that he cared. She loved him for it. Loved him for loving her and loving Danny, and wanting to rescue them from their unhappy life._

_Horatio knew she had to make a decision soon. The shelter would only allow her to stay for thirty days... and he was offering Maggie and her son a home. Her nagging conscience chastised her for considering Horatio's invitation. Was she taking advantage of him? She was too old for him... perhaps not now, but what about in ten years? How would he feel ten or fifteen years from now? He'd be the same age she was now! And he'd be saddled with a middle-aged wife and a teenager. Would he view her as a burden then? Would he grow to hate her, feeling he'd missed out on his youth?_

_She told herself all the reasons it wouldn't work... couldn't work. And all the reasons she shouldn't give in to his earnest and heart-felt proposal._

_But in the end, it didn't matter. Maggie loved gentleness, having experienced precious little of it during her life. The warm, gentle caress of Horatio's lips against her palm was the thing that decided her. The sweet, lover-like action had broken her. For once in her life, she'd be selfish. He wanted her; how could it be wrong to give him what he wanted?_

_Having come to a decision, she steadfastly ignored the sad, persistent warning that the warm, salt-scented breeze seemed to relentlessly whisper as it gently lifted her hair and then drifted out to sea._

* * *

_Horatio pulled out the sofa bed and started making it up for Danny while Maggie went into the small kitchen to put away the groceries they'd purchased on their way home to his apartment._

_Danny looked at Horatio and began to chew his bottom lip nervously. Horatio caught the boy at it. "Hey sport, you want to help me get your bed made up?"_

_"Sure." He began to mimic Horatio's pulling up the sheet and tucking in its corners. "This is where I'm going to sleep?"_

_"It is. Okay with you?"_

_"Yeah... 'Ratio, does my daddy know I'm here?"_

_Horatio stopped making the bed and looked at the child. He saw the uncertainty in his face. Walking to the boy's side of the bed, Horatio sat down on the edge. "Danny, let's sit for a minute, okay?"_

_The boy nodded, his green eyes as big as saucers as he stared at Horatio. "I promise not to make a mess around here. I'll be good, 'Ratio. I promise."_

_Horatio cocked his head, studying the boy. "Sport, I'm not worried about any of that. This is your home now, okay?"_

_Danny's expression was serious as he replied, "But you have to let me know the rules... if I don't know the rules, how can I make sure I don't make you mad? I don't want to make you mad."_

_'Rules,' thought Horatio, feeling a sudden kinship with the child. 'I remember all too well about needing to know the rules.' Life in the Caine household had been all about his father's complex set of rules. So many of them to worry about, the fear he might inadvertently break one. His father's anger. The pain that followed. _

_"Danny, listen to me, son, okay?" asked Horatio, gently laying his hand against the side of the boy's head. "There are no rules here except this one: you listen to your mom, do what she says. And, well, maybe one more: always try to be a good man."_

_"What's that mean, being a good man?"_

_"Well, it means doing the best you can, helping out, taking care of others... that sort of thing. Can you do that, Danny?"_

_Solemnly, the boy nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."_

_Late that evening, Maggie Sullivan rose carefully from the sofa bed and studied her son. Danny was sleeping soundly, one of his Hans Solo action figures firmly in his grip. She smiled at the sight, dropped a light kiss on his forehead, and quietly left him. Approaching the door to Horatio's bedroom, she knocked twice, very gently, and then entered. She closed the door softly behind her._

_He'd been lying there awake, unable to sleep, and he suddenly sat up. "Maggie?" he whispered._

_She approached the bed and stood before him. "Horatio."_

_He shook his head. "Sweetheart, when I asked you and Danny to move in, I wasn't pressuring you to do this... Maggie, I can wait until you're sure... I want you sure, Maggie!"_

_She smiled in the soft darkness, now completely sure. His words had decided her. She swiftly slipped the light cotton gown she'd been wearing over her head and allowed it to drop to the floor next to her. "Move over, Horatio... it's cold out here."_

_His eyes could just make out her lovely body in the dim light, and he swallowed deeply at what he could see – and at the thought of what he couldn't. As he made way for her, she swiftly sat down on the bed and scooted under the covers. Horatio took her in his arms. "Are you sure, Maggie? Please... please be sure..."_

_"I'm sure... now kiss me, sweet man."_

_He did. And a new world suddenly opened up for Horatio. Maggie allowed her hand to trail gently down his naked chest, following the line of soft fur that led to the waistband of the sweat pants he was wearing. Soon her lips followed that sensitive trail, and then slowly worked their way back up to the hollow of his throat. Horatio began to feel tendrils of fire where her fingers and mouth had traveled, and felt himself grow hard. He shifted his weight slightly, and a soft, knowing laugh escaped Maggie's lips. Her hand then wandered beneath the waistband and she grasped him lightly in her hand, enjoying the soft-as-silk hardness of him. "My sweet lover," she murmured, '"my sweet young man... too much clothing, my love..."_

_Horatio quickly squirmed out of the pants, kicking them aside, while Maggie dropped feather-light kisses about his throat. Again, she took him in her hand, gently caressing, whispering into his ear things that further inflamed his senses._

_Her hand moved knowingly up and down the sensitive skin, teasing him with her restraint, knowing he wanted more... and how her senses thrilled when she heard him gasp, "Maggie... Maggie... what are you doing to me?" His hands then began their own fevered exploration of his Maggie, delighting in the curves and hollows they found, and the response they could provoke just by touching her a certain way. _

_Maggie was surprised by feelings she'd not anticipated, and loved the passion she felt resting beneath her hand; she loved hearing him say her name. She wondered if she should allow him to take charge or if she should move forward... While waiting to see what he'd prefer, it suddenly occurred to her that he might be inexperienced. She could feel it in the gentle exploration he made of her body, and the slight shudders she felt coming from him._

_"Horatio... is this your first time, sweetheart?"_

_Too caught up in what he was feeling to feign experience, he admitted hoarsely, "Yes... yes..."_

_"Then let me, okay? This time, let me." Slowly she sat atop him, and guided him inside her warmth. Exulting in the fullness of him deep inside her, she arched her back in abandon, giving Horatio a glimpse of creamy breasts tipped with rose-colored nipples. His hands reached for them, taking their stiff peaks between his thumbs and forefingers, gently squeezing, and enjoying the soft moan that escaped from her lips. He wanted to prolong the moment, but Maggie began to move with increasing, sweet need, and he matched his upward thrusts with her movement. As they fell into their own, unique rhythm of love, Horatio began to feel the world was centered in that increasing movement... there was nothing else. It was everything. He wanted nothing more than to cry out her name as his feelings began to reach a crescendo... but just as he gained release and his lips began to form her name, Maggie quickly leaned forward and captured his open mouth in a kiss, swallowing up any cry he might have made._

_And then... it was over. _

_Slowly, he came back to himself. With wonder, he realized that Maggie lay nestled next to him, already sleeping. After... all of that... how could she sleep? Yet even as he wondered, he felt the inviting encroachment of satisfied slumber._

_He fought it for a moment, enjoying a new sensation. Serenity._

_For the first time in his life, Horatio felt fully at peace. Content. Maggie next to him, breathing softly against his throat, and Danny, just outside, securely tucked inside his makeshift bed. _

_Safe. Peaceful. Everything... right._

_It was a good feeling._

* * *

_"You can't seriously be considering this!" he said angrily, watching Maggie pack her belongings and Danny's into the battered suitcase. Three months had passed since the two had moved in with him. Wonderful months for Horatio. Months in which he'd been happy. _

_"Please, Horatio, you have to understand." Maggie resolutely continued packing, refusing to meet Horatio's eyes. "I can't continue on this way."_

_He sat down on his bed, confused, and watched her. He knew she'd been depressed the past few weeks. She'd been trying to find work, but had no skills, and the jobs offered to her paid nothing once the taxes were taken out. It hadn't worried Horatio overmuch; he made enough money to support the three of them. No luxuries, but they were doing okay. He had tried to tell her this, and had been surprised by the ferocity of tone when she said, "I don't want you to have to support us, Horatio. We are not your responsibility."_

'_But you are,' he remembered thinking. 'You became my responsibility the day I fell in love with you.'_

_He wasn't sure what to make of this woman he loved. By turns she was generous and passionate, and then just as quickly remote and watchful. Yet, he knew she loved him. He felt it when he held her in his arms, in the looks she gave him when she thought he wasn't watching. But she always held a part of herself from him. Why that was so, he couldn't figure out._

_"Maggie, we need to talk about this. Please stop moving about and sit down and talk to me." His words seem to have no effect except to make her bite her lip in determination and continue her task. "What about Danny? Can you really be thinking about taking him back to live with that man? The boy's scared to death of him!"_

_Maggie faltered in her task, looking down at the clothes she'd thrown into the suitcase. Horatio used the moment to go to her and take her into his arms. "Maggie, you can't go back there, sweetheart. Is it me? Have I made demands? We'll figure out something else... but you can't go back there!"_

_"I've got to go back, Horatio," she said, her voice rough with unshed tears. "He's Danny's father... and he says things are different now. He's made promises..." She pushed away from Horatio and sat down on a chair next to the suitcase. "Promises, Horatio."_

_"Maggie, listen to me! I know all about those sorts of promises! Christ, the times my father made promises to my mother... and all those times she listened to him! Those sorts of promises are never kept, Maggie! I know what I'm talking about. Do you want Danny to be frightened of his own shadow, always worried that one misstep might land him in the ER again? Is that what you really want for your son?"_

_"Of course not! But Rory's been getting counseling, learning to understand why he gets so angry, how to deal with it, and he's given up alcohol. He wants his son back... and his wife, too."_

"_And is that what his wife wants?" he asked bitterly. "To be back with the man who abused her child?"_

_"Oh, Horatio," she said sadly, "if this were a perfect world, I'd stay with you, darling. I would. I've tried to pretend that the age difference doesn't matter. But it does... and it will increasingly matter. Rory and I... we're the same age. We have a child together. And now we have a chance to make it work. He says he's committed to being a good father – that he's straightened himself out. Don't I owe it to both he and Danny to try to make things work?_

_"And you, love," she said, her voice so soft that Horatio had to strain to catch it, "don't I owe you a chance to find a love closer in age to you? To begin your own family, free of the obligations of another man's wife and child?"_

_"If you loved me, Maggie Sullivan, you wouldn't be saying these things!" he said. "Did you really ever care for me? Were you just using me?" He was angry and hurt and he heard the harshness in his tone, but he couldn't help it. He was losing her! He'd just found her and now he was losing her._

_"You're so young," she whispered, her face white. "That's why you can say what you're saying to me! Only one so young would see everything so black and white! Well, it's not like that, Horatio. Life isn't black and white! Can't you see? It's because I love you that I'm giving you your freedom. You have a lifetime of choices and opportunities before you. Horatio, would someone who loved you take that from you just to appease her own fears and selfishness? I was wrong to have begun with you – I know that. I was weak. But I can't lie to myself about this. I can't lie to you. Please, understand: this is for you as much as it is for me and Danny."_

_She took a deep breath. "Father Smith says Rory understands that what he's done in the past is wrong. He's stopped drinking, Horatio. He's gotten counseling. That's a big step for him... he's never acknowledged he had a problem before. He wants his son back... wants to be a father to him. The right kind of father this time... I need to give him that chance."_

_She took a deep breath and held out an imploring hand. "And I need to give you a chance, too, my sweet young man. Can't you see that, Horatio?"_

_He turned away, his face closed. 'She's right,' he thought bitterly, 'I am young. Too young to see any sense in what she's planning.'_

_"You're just like my mother," he said cruelly, and refused to look at her. A hardness stole across his features that Maggie had never seen before. It hurt her to realize she was responsible for giving this young man she loved his first stinging lesson in heartache. "Just like my weak, useless mother." _

_He walked quickly out of the apartment; he didn't want to be there, watching her leave. He had reached the bottom of the cement steps at the front of his apartment building when a small voice captured his attention._

_"'Ratio?" Danny was seated at the top of the steps, forlornly watching Horatio as he left the building. In his haste to leave, Horatio hadn't noticed the small boy. Danny's face was full of confusion and Horatio could see the boy was trying not to cry. "Are we leaving you?"_

_Wearily, Horatio walked back up the stained steps and slowly sat down next to the boy. "I'm afraid you are, sport."_

_"But... why? I thought we were going to be together."_

_Taking a deep breath, Horatio tried to explain to the child what he, himself, couldn't understand. "Well, you know, your mom thinks it's important to give your dad another chance."_

_Danny shuddered. "I hate him, 'Ratio! I hate everything about him! He scares me... nothing I do is right. He makes my mom cry... why does she want to go back there? Can I stay with you? Please, I won't be any trouble... I... I love you, 'Ratio."_

_A sizable lump took up residence in Horatio's throat as he pulled the young boy close. "I love you, too, sport, but you have to go with your mom, understand? Your dad... well, he's been sick... but he says he's better now." Horatio cleared his throat and began again. "Now about your mom... She loves you – and she needs you. And me... well, I'm only a phone call away. Understand? Anytime you get scared... need help... you call me. You call me and I'll be there. That's a promise - one you can count on, okay?"_

_The child nodded._

_"You be a good man, okay? Take care of your mom... that's what we do, right?"_

_Again the little boy nodded. Unable to bear the look on the child's face, Horatio ruffled his hair, and rose. "Your mom will be down shortly. You wait here for her. You don't want to worry her, right?"_

_"Right. I'm a good man, 'Ratio. You can count on me."_

_Horatio smiled tightly and quickly left the little boy sitting on the step. _

_He couldn't bear it a moment longer._

* * *

_"You know, kid," said Bucky Dent, "you need to lighten up. Let's you and me go to McGill's and grab a couple of beers and you can tell Uncle Bucky all about it."_

_Horatio looked at the older cop as they were both leaving the precinct after a long, uninspiring day on their individual beats. All Horatio wanted to do was get home, take a shower and go to bed. He was tired. His throat hurt and he felt the beginnings of a cold coming on. The last thing he felt like doing was engaging in backslapping, unfunny jokes and the too-loud camaraderie that an evening with Dent promised. He was about to offer an excuse when he noticed a genuine kindness in Dent's expression._

_"C'mon, kid, you're not the first to get banged up by a woman."_

_Horatio frowned. "Bucky, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm tired and not feeling well. I think I'm going to head home and hit the sack."_

_Dent put a restraining hand on his arm and smiled. "Look, Caine, the fact that you got woman trouble is as clear as the very large nose on my face. You've been more tight-lipped than usual the past few months, and that's saying something for you... you're not exactly chatty, if you get my drift."_

_Sighing, Horatio did indeed get the older cop's drift. It had been six months since Maggie had gone back to her husband, and Horatio had heard nothing from her or Danny. He could only assume that things were going well._

_For her, anyway. Him? Well, that was another matter. When she popped into his thoughts, which was often, he was overcome by longing and anger in varying degrees. He still found it incredulous that she chose to go back to her husband; it was a bitter pill, and swallowing it hadn't become any easier for Horatio. He hoped she thought of him and missed him! He hoped she was filled with remorse and unhappiness! _

_Late at night, in the silence of his apartment, he'd spin useless fantasies in which Maggie would call him, pleading with him to take her back, promising to make it up to him. And how he enjoyed the thought of her begging his forgiveness! If she wanted him back now, he'd laugh in her face._

_He would! He would!_

_'No, you wouldn't,' he thought, his honest heart mocking him. 'You'd take her back in a heartbeat. Oh, Maggie!'_

_Bucky Dent had watched the play of emotions across Horatio's face, guessing correctly the source of the problem. Dames. They were always trouble. Feeling sorry for the kid, Dent tried again. "Yeah... as clear as the nose on my face. Won't do you any good to go home and sulk, kid. The only way to get over a dame is to... hell, I don't know how anyone gets over a dame. They're all poison, if you ask me. I got three ex-wives... I know all about poison."_

_Horatio smiled without amusement._

"_Let's go get that beer, Caine. No use sitting by yourself in a lonely apartment all night."_

_"Hey, Caine," called out one of the precinct clerks, "you got a call – sounds important. Some kid. Won't talk to anyone but you."_

_Hurrying to the desk, Horatio picked up the phone. His heart began beating rapidly. A kid? Who else could it be but Danny?_

_"Sport?"_

_"'Ratio! Please, you gotta come, please come, please come now!"_

_Horatio heard the panic in the young boy's voice and also muffled sounds of conflict in the background. "Where are you, sport?_

_"I'm in the bedroom... Mom locked me in here... I'm under the bed, 'Ratio! Please come, he's gonna hurt her!"_

_"I'm on my way, okay? Stay inside that room, understand? You listen to me, Danny: you stay locked inside that room – do not open that door. I'm coming. Got it? I'm coming."_

_Horatio hung up and saw Dent looking at him. "Problem?"_

"_Yeah... you coming?" asked Horatio, suddenly wanting the older cop by his side._

_"I guess that beer can wait."_

* * *

_Horatio's heart plummeted when he saw several residents from the other apartments milling about outside the door of the Sullivan apartment. He heard the noise coming from inside the residence as he approached. Things were being thrown against walls. These were sounds that were familiar to Horatio, sounds he'd grown up hearing. He knew absolutely what was going on behind that door, and he was filled with fear for Maggie and Danny._

_He heard Dent questioning the gawkers. "You know the people inside this apartment? How long has all the noise been going on? Any of you think to call the police?"_

_"Hey, quit your bitchin' – you're here now, ain't you?" wheezed a skinny, older woman. Her short gray hair and wizened, leathery skin gave testament to her years. There was an ugly cynicism in her tone that was matched by the coldness in her expression as she blew a plume of smoke and allowed the half-smoked cigarette to dangle from her lips._

_"No thanks to you, sister," replied Dent, turning his attention from her. "You," he said, pointing to a young mother with a toddler clinging to her knees, and who looked frightened at being singled out. "You know what's going on?"_

_"He's beating her, I think," said the woman, her Puerto Rican accent making her hard to understand. "They've been arguing all day. I know her... watch her boy sometimes... shall I call her priest?" _

_Horatio walked past her. "Her priest?" he asked disbelievingly. "A lot of good he has ever been." Horatio tried the door. It was locked. He knocked loudly. "SULLIVAN! OPEN UP THIS DOOR. THIS IS THE POLICE. OPEN THE DOOR NOW!"_

_He and Dent looked at one another as the noise inside the apartment abruptly quieted. Suddenly the voice Horatio most wanted to hear cried out, "HORATIO! MY BOY... DANNY!" _

"_MAGGIE? OPEN THE DOOR, MAGGIE!" _

_The noise within started again, and Horatio only heard Maggie's voice with any clarity once more: "NO, RORY, NO!"_

_Dent was looking critically at the door. "We aren't going to be able to kick this in... too strong. I'm going to grab the shotgun out of the car; we're going to have to shoot the lock off. Handgun isn't gonna do it. You push these people back and keep trying to talk to the woman inside. I'll be right back."_

_As Dent went down the stairs and out to the car, Horatio tried fruitlessly to kick in the door. "SULLIVAN, CAN YOU HEAR ME? I WANT YOU TO STEP BACK FROM YOUR WIFE. DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID. THIS IS STILL FIXABLE. RORY? RORY, OPEN THE DOOR AND LET ME IN. WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS."_

_There was no acknowledgement from Sullivan. Horatio heard a blood-curdling scream... a thud... and then nothing. It became ominously quiet on the other side of the door._

_Horatio heard a sudden sob from someone in the crowd and looked over in time to see the young mother make the sign of the cross, her hand briefly touching her forehead, her chest and then each shoulder. Horatio's blood ran cold and he turned his attention back to the door._

_"MAGGIE? MAGGIE, SAY SOMETHING!"_

_Dent was again at Horatio's side. "Okay, kid, here goes... get these people back." Horatio turned to the interested spectators and gave them such a withering stare that they all slowly moved back into a shamefaced huddle. 'Where the hell were you when she needed you?' he thought bitterly as he stared at them._

_Dent shot out the lock and Horatio quickly turned his attention back to the older cop. Dent looked at the young man, sizing him up. "Okay, weapons out – back me up. You ready?" Horatio nodded._

_Quickly gaining entrance to the apartment, they stopped and stared at what they saw. Maggie Sullivan was laying face down in front of a cast iron hot water radiator. Smears of bright red color decorated the painted beige pipes... it took Horatio a moment or two to realize the crimson stains were Maggie's blood. He stared stupidly at the pipes._

_"Kid," said Dent quietly, "look away from the lady; we've got a situation here. Understand?"_

_With difficulty, the younger cop pulled his attention away from the prostrate figure and the two men walked slowly toward the kitchen where the door was only partially open. "What's the guy's name? Sullivan?" asked Dent quietly._

_Horatio croaked out, "Sullivan... Rory..."_

_Dent nodded. "Okay." He looked again toward the door and slowly motioned Horatio to the other side of it. "Rory? My name is Bucky. I want to talk with you, Rory, okay?"_

_"Nothing to talk about now," said the slurred voice behind the door. "God help me, I think I killed her." _

_"You got a weapon in there, Rory? C'mon, Rory, let's talk about this. Why don't you come on out, okay? Rory?"_

_"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," wept the man, "killed her, I did. I didn't mean to do it, you know... Jesus, Lord, I didn't mean to do it... she kept at me, she just kept at me... and the boy, he never knew when to keep quiet. Ah, Jesus, Mary and Joseph... I'm not a bad man... I tried to do the right thing... God knows, I tried... Am I going to hell for this? Dear God..."_

_Horatio listened to the drunken sobbing coming from behind the door, and his rage bubbled up. He longed to kick that door open and fully discharge his weapon into Rory Sullivan. Maggie's killer. Goddam his whiney-assed soul for eternity!_

_Horatio hadn't felt such rage since... since... Realizing how close he was to the point of no return, he furiously pushed the unfinished thought away and focused on Dent. The temptation to get justice for Maggie was so strong that he found his grip on the handgun was shaking... easy, too easy to just pull the trigger... so easy..._

_Unaware of the effort Horatio was making to maintain his control, Dent continued trying to convince the weeping man to voluntarily stand down. "Rory, how about I come in, huh? You and me, just a friendly conversation, no pressure, just trying to figure – "_

_A shot rang out and both Dent and Horatio instinctively whipped backward, their hands tightening on their weapons. Quickly realizing the shot hadn't been fired in their direction, Horatio kicked the kitchen door completely open and gazed at what was left of the man who'd killed Maggie. Bucky Dent knelt beside the unresponsive figure, taking his pulse, all the while knowing that the shot to the head had made any chance of survival unlikely._

_Within minutes additional police cars and several ambulances arrived. Dent capably began issuing instructions while Horatio headed down a small, cramped hallway. There he saw a closed door. He took a deep breath and tried the door knob... it wouldn't turn. Squatting down, he called softly through the door. "Danny? Sport, it's Horatio. It's okay now, Danny... it's over now. You can unlock the door, son."_

_Horatio watched as the knob began slowly to move – and then stop. A small voice said tentatively, "'Ratio... is it really you?"_

_Swallowing painfully, Horatio cleared his throat. "It is... it's me, sport. Open the door, Danny."_

_Again the door knob began turning slowly, and this time a small figure emerged from the darkness. He stood there, his eyes wet, his hands wringing one another. "Is it safe?"_

_"It's safe," said Horatio hoarsely, gathering the boy close. Placing his large hand behind the boy's head, he tucked his head against his chest, and with the boy's legs straddled around either side of his waist, rose up. "Now, we're going to take a little walk, sport. I want you to close your eyes, okay? Keep 'em closed until I tell you to open them. Promise me?"_

"_Okay."_

_"Okay, then. Here we go." Horatio walked past the activity in the kitchen and past the fallen woman in the living room, now being tended to by several EMTs. A brief flame of hope flickered in Horatio's heart as he saw one EMT searching for a pulse; however, the EMT quickly met his eyes and ever so slightly shook his head. Horatio then moved decisively toward the door, holding the child's head firmly to his chest, determined that his last look at his mother would not be this one._

_He carried the young boy to one of the waiting patrol cars, opened the door and sat him on the side edge of the seat. The boy just stared at him._

_"My mom... my dad hurt her, didn't he? Hurt her bad."_

_Squatting beside the child, Horatio nodded. "Danny, I'm afraid so."_

_The boy looked down. "I tried to take care of her. I tried... but I couldn't. I wasn't a good man."_

_"Don't you ever say that! Don't you even think it. What did I tell you to do if something happened?"_

_"Call you. You said to call you, and you'd come."_

_"That's right, and that's just what you did. What your mother would have wanted you to do. She wanted you to be safe. She loved you. Don't ever forget that – she loved you."_

_The tears began to fall. "Why'd she go back to him, 'Ratio? We were happy... you, me... she was happy, too. Why'd she want to go back to him?"_

_Horatio's own vision began to blur and he quickly looked away. "I don't know, sport. But you mustn't think badly of her, okay? I guess... I guess she did what she thought she had to do, even if we don't understand. But the main thing for you to remember is that she loved you... and her last words were about you."_

* * *

_The day of Maggie's funeral, Horatio stood apart from the mourners at the cemetery, his heart bitter as he listened to Father Smith's words about what a good and loving mother Maggie had been – and a fine wife, as well. He advised the gathering to accept that God's ways were mysterious, and that God had his own reasons – obscure as they might seem to us – for what had occurred between Rory and Margaret Sullivan._

_'You old fraud!' thought Horatio angrily, recalling how the priest had convinced Maggie her place was with Rory. Anger blackened Horatio's heart... He hadn't felt such anger since... since... he resolutely pushed aside the thought, unwilling to explore it._

_He didn't want those reminders of his childhood._

_When the service was over and most of the family and friends had departed, Horatio walked to the lip of the gravesite and knelt down. Unbidden, a snatch of music drifted through his thoughts..._

_And if you come, and all the flowers are dying  
If I am dead, as dead I well may be  
I pray you'll find the place where I am lying  
And kneel and say an Ave there for me._

_And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me  
And all my grave will warm and sweeter be  
And then you'll kneel and whisper that you love me  
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me._

_Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so._

_He remembered with a full heart the first time he'd heard her sing to Danny in the hospital, and if a heart could weep tears of blood, surely his was as he thought back to the happy months they'd shared. Too few... too few... _

_He remembered, too, his last words to her the day she'd left him. 'You're just like my mother,' he'd said bitterly as he watched her make the decision to return to her husband._

_Now he said those words again, but softer. "Just like my mother."_

_This time there was no bitterness. Just profound sadness._

* * *

_"'Ratio?" He looked up and several feet away stood Danny Sullivan. The boy was standing alongside a very tall, auburn-haired man. One of Maggie's brothers - the one living in Iowa. He'd heard the man had come to take the boy back with him. _

_Finally, one of her brothers... ready to help her. 'About time.' The thought curled through him, leaving a taste of ashes in his mouth._

_He walked toward the boy and nodded at Maggie's brother, who spoke up. "Officer Caine, Danny wanted to say goodby to you... before he leaves with me and my wife." He looked at Danny. "Son, when you're done, me and your aunt will be over there by the car. You take all the time you need. We can wait."_

_Horatio felt slightly better as he watched the tall man walk away. He seemed kind. Kindness was important to Horatio._

_Kneeling down so that he could make eye contact with the boy, he smiled at him. "So, sport, is it Iowa you're off to?"_

_Danny nodded. "Yeah... Uncle Andrew and Aunt Mary live in Iowa. They have a kid... a girl." He grimaced as he said that, and Horatio laughed softly. _

_"That's not such a bad thing, Danny; you'll have a ready-made friend then. That's good."_

_The boy looked unconvinced. "Yeah, I guess." He cocked his head. "Why can't I stay with you? You know, I'd be a good man... a good man for you to have around. We could... well, we could look out for each other, you know?"_

_Finding it difficult to speak for a moment, Horatio smoothed the boy's hair back. "Danny, your mom would want you to be with your family. Your uncle seems like a good man, too. What do you think?"_

_Danny glanced in his direction. "He's nice. He says I'll like Iowa... he has a small farm there... a horse. A horse wouldn't be bad. A horse would be good."_

_"Yeah, that's right, sport. A horse would be real good." _

_"'Ratio... you won't forget me, will you? That you knew me... and my mom?"_

_Horatio pulled the boy to him roughly. "I swear to you, I'll never forget you... and I'll never forget your mother. Okay?"_

_Danny seemed satisfied. He moved out of Horatio's embrace and squared his shoulders. He held out a hand. "Shake?"_

_The man and the boy shook hands, and then Danny turned and headed back to the car waiting for him while Horatio's eyes followed. Halfway to his destination, Danny turned and called to him._

_"I'll never forget you! I'll be a good man."_

_He ran to the waiting car, got in, and Horatio watched the car leave the cemetery._

* * *

"Did you ever see the kid again, Horatio?" asked Raymond who stood next to his brother in that gray cemetery, observing the Horatio of yesteryear.

"No... we exchanged a few cards, but then he stopped writing. I think his new life became more real to him than his old, and thank God for that! What could I have been but a reminder of his mother's unhappiness? There's a time for moving on, Ray. Danny needed to move on."

Horatio watched his younger self walk slowly away from the gravesite. "I was so young back then... so unforgiving."

"Why do you say that?" asked Raymond.

"I was so angry and harsh with her. 'Just like my mother' – I threw that in her face. I wanted to hurt her."

"And now?"

He sighed deeply. "Now I realize I know nothing. I didn't understand back then why people made the choices they do... and time has failed to disclose any more knowledge on that subject. But I guess I'm a bit more forgiving, even if I can't understand... but the children, Ray... it's always the children who pay the price for the poor choices we make as adults."

An uncomfortable feeling came over Raymond at those words. Whether or not Horatio had intended to chastise his brother, Raymond felt the truth in those words with regard to his own boy. _Remorse is an ugly emotion_, thought Ray.

"I wonder how he's doing?" asked Horatio suddenly, startling Raymond who'd gotten caught up in his own regrets.

"Who?"

"Danny Sullivan. I wonder if he's okay." A wistful look appeared on Horatio's face as he recalled the boy with the Star Wars obsession.

"Well, this is your journey, Horatio. We're looking at your past, but in the past is sown the seeds for the good or bad in the present. The Powers That Be will give you a glimpse – if you're brave enough to look. Otherwise, you won't be able to make a considered choice about your own future."

"If I'm brave enough to look?" Horatio repeated the words. They made him uneasy.

"Exactly. You may or may not like what you see – but we can get a glimpse of Danny's life. But you have to decide... was Danny so important to you that you're brave enough to take a look? Can you accept the good or bad that is his life today?"

The boy was important to Horatio, but he wasn't sure he could stand seeing Danny in pain... or a delinquent... or something worse. But then he thought of Maggie. He owed it to Maggie... didn't he?

He decided. "Okay, let's get a look. What do we have to do?"

"Just think about him. That's all."

The area around them began to shimmer, and again there was that disconcerting feeling of moving through time and space.

* * *

Horatio and Raymond found themselves standing inside a small, comfortable bedroom where an attractive woman was busily brushing off a gray suit coat that hung on the outside of a scarred wooden wardrobe. Humming a happy tune, she stopped and stepped back, taking an objective look at the suit coat, and smiled. She glanced over at the clock near the bed and called out, "Danny, you'd best hurry... it's almost 1:00!"

A deep voice issued from inside the adjoining bathroom, "Candy, the ceremony isn't until 2:30. Damn, woman! You don't want your husband meeting the Mayor with stubble on his chin, do you?" Finally, a tall, strongly-built man emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the trousers that were to accompany the suit coat.

Horatio's eye's widened. Danny Sullivan was now well into his thirties and in the prime of life. His auburn hair had darkened to brown, but Maggie's beautiful green eyes still sparkled in his handsome face. It was a good face: intelligent and strong. Crinkled lines were etched in the corners of his eyes, giving evidence to a love of laughter. Horatio's heart lightened just watching him cross the room to his wife.

While Candy Sullivan continued to regard the suit coat, wondering if perhaps it wasn't grand enough for the ceremony, Danny stole around the back of her, encircled her waist and pulled her backward against his chest. "You know, woman, we have a little time for our own ceremony... want to show River City, Iowa's Number One Firefighter how much you value his heroism?"

"Not now, you silly man!" she said affectionately. She twirled around, gave him a quick kiss on his lips and escaped his embrace. "And don't let all this hero stuff go to your head! You might be Mr. Courageous to everyone else in this town, but I'm the lady who washes your dirty underwear, and not so easily impressed!"

Her soft smile contradicted her words and made him chuckle. If there was one thing Dan Sullivan could count on, it was that he wouldn't be getting what Iowans called 'The Big Head' with Candy around.

Thinking better of it, she kissed him again, this time more sweetly. "I love you, Danny. And I don't need any special recognition from the Mayor or this town to be proud of you. You're a good man, Mr. Sullivan!"

And indeed he was. Raymond saw a newspaper lying on top of the bed and motioned Horatio's attention toward it. Hating to tear his eyes away from Maggie's boy, he reluctantly walked toward the bed and briefly read the snippet before him – about the firefighter who rescued a family from a burning apartment house, endangering his own life in the process. He got the entire family out seconds before fiery beams collapsed, making further exit impossible. There was more, but Horatio had read enough.

Maggie's boy had turned out okay. More than okay.

Candy gave Danny one more kiss and then backed away. "Now I've got to get the kids dressed. It's not every day children get to see their father receive a medal from the Mayor. They're so proud of you, honey." She smiled and left the room.

Danny stood there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He then walked over to his bureau and looked at the photograph that rested there in a silver frame. Horatio saw it was a photograph of Maggie, and he resisted an urge to say aloud, 'Look at him, Maggie! Look what a fine man your boy turned into."

Danny touched his fingers to his lips and then gently to the photograph. "I'm doing well, mom. You can rest easy, okay?" The man seemed to suddenly sense something strange in the room, because he looked deeply into the mirror that was above the bureau for several seconds, but all he saw was his own reflection.

Still, he said softly, "'Ratio? You there?"

Horatio tensed, and Ray grabbed his arm. "Stay still, brother... let it pass..."

Danny smiled suddenly and shrugged. "This hero stuff must be getting to me," he said, laughing softly at himself.

He straightened his tie, pulled on his suit coat, and took one last look into the mirror. Squaring his shoulders, he prepared to leave the room. Just before he did, a sweet smile appeared on his face.

"I'm keeping my promise, 'Ratio. Like you, I'm a good man."

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Well?" asked Ray.

A slight smile appeared on Horatio's face. "Maggie would be happy," he replied quietly.

"What about you? Are you happy?"

"Of course, I am. Moving to Iowa was the best thing that could have happened to that boy."

Raymond shook his head, his tone annoyed. "No, the best thing that could have happened to him was meeting you. You gave him kindness. He knew he could depend on you. He took your words about being a good man to heart. Christ, you're dense at times!"

Horatio wasn't a falsely humble man, but he wasn't taking credit for Danny Sullivan's goodness. If he steered him when he needed some guidance, so much the better. But who Danny became was not Horatio's doing. Each man charts his own course. So believed Horatio Caine.

Reading the expressions on Horatio's face and getting a pretty good idea of what he was thinking, Ray said softly, "You're a tough nut to crack, Tin Man. I guess there's more to this journey, then, for you and me."

Horatio looked around. Already the bedroom was dissolving before them. "Where to, now?"

"That, big brother, is entirely up to you."

**To be continued.**


End file.
